


Fight or Flight

by deadlyrainbows



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Complete, Gen, Wright Brothers, almost historically accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-04 01:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10979460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlyrainbows/pseuds/deadlyrainbows
Summary: The Time Team must travel to 1901 Kitty Hawk, North Carolina in order to stop Flynn from interfering with Wright brothers' quest for first flight. (Set in season one, pre-finale)





	1. Chapter 1

Lucy Preston unlocked the front door to her mother’s house and let herself in.  She had returned from yet another mission, and days of bending backwards through history had left her emotionally and physically exhausted. She leaned against the door as it closed behind her and released a long sigh. She could finally relax.

“Mom, I’m back!” Lucy called out, dropping her purse and keys on the table in the foyer. “At a decent hour this time,” she added, pulling a candy bar out of the pocket of her sweater. “I even brought your Snickers!” She was answered only by the sound her own voice echoing back to her. “Mom?” she called again, setting the candy down next to her purse. “Are you home?” 

Silence.

She shuffled into the kitchen, wearily rubbing at a kink in her neck. “Mom, please tell me we have some-” she stopped abruptly in the doorway, her voice trailing off, “...aspirin.” 

Lucy stood, frozen in place, as her brain processed the sight before her. Her blood ran cold and the hairs on her neck stood on end as she found her mother’s kitchen completely empty; not only devoid of her mother, but of any of her mother’s possessions. There were no pots, no pans, no coffeemaker. Even the curtains that used to hang at the windows… gone.

Stomach heavy with dread, she rushed forward, throwing open cupboard after cupboard. Empty. Nothing. A thin layer of dust. Terror gripped at her heart as she frantically returned to the foyer and tore up the stairs two at a time to her mother's bedroom. 

“Mom!” The bed and dresser were absent, no indentation in the carpet to suggest that they had ever been there at all. Lucy ripped open the closet door. It was agonizingly empty. “Gone...” she breathed. Her vision blurred at the edges. “She’s gone…” The room began to spin and she clutched the closet’s door frame desperately to keep from sinking to her knees. “She was never here.” Lucy closed her eyes on the emptiness and swallowed down a wave of nausea.

How was this possible? What in history had they changed so drastically that she had come home to a world where her mother didn’t exist? 

“This isn’t happening,” she muttered, gripping the door frame so tightly her knuckles turned white. She couldn’t lose her mother like this, not after losing Amy. Lucy’s labored breath hitched in her chest as she was suddenly hit with a devastating thought. If her mother didn’t exist…

“No. No, no, no… no… no…” she muttered, running a hand through her hair, now barely staving off full-blown panic. She stumbled dizzily out of her mother’s room and down the stairs, throwing herself at her purse by the door. She clumsily turned it upside down, the contents spilling out onto the table.

Lipstick and breath mints hit the floor, but she couldn’t hear them clattering across the granite over the deafening sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. Her trembling fingers finally closed around her phone; the phone that had remained in the present when she left it to follow Garcia Flynn. It would not be safe from changes made in the past, she reasoned. Not like the photo in the locket around her neck. She opened her pictures, flipping through them with lightning speed.

The pictures used to be of Lucy, Amy and their mother. After the Hindenburg, when Amy was erased from history,  she was erased from the photos as well. Now, to Lucy’s horror, the photos were as deserted as the house around her. They had become pictures of landscapes and busy restaurants and vacant chairs. It wasn’t only her mother that had disappeared. 

In this timeline she had returned to, Lucy Preston didn’t exist.

With new purpose, she snatched her keys off the table, already formulating a plan in her mind. She had to return to Mason Industries, had to get Wyatt and Rufus, had to get back in the Lifeboat and put things right. With a mission to keep her sane, the overwhelming panic began to recede. They could fix this, somehow. The throbbing in her ears subsided in time to hear the front door click open behind her. The keys clutched in her fist, she spun around to find herself face to face with with the menacing and imposing figure of Garcia Flynn.

“You don’t exist here, Lucy,” he said as he advanced, his looming frame filling the doorway. Lucy’s voice died her in throat as she backed away. She had no way around him. On instinct she made to run to the back door, but Flynn’s vice-like grip closed around her upper arm. He yanked her back roughly, causing her to cry out. “This _wouldn’t_ have _happened_ ,” he growled, shaking her for emphasis, “if you had worked with me like you were  _meant to_ .” He waved Lucy’s supposed journal in her face. She shrunk away, provoking him to shake her harder. “Do you hear me, Lucy? Lucy?” 

“Lucy!”

 _Escape_ , she thought blurrily. She clawed furiously to get away, but her limbs suddenly felt heavy and restricted.

“Lucy! Stop, honey, it’s me!” The voice had transformed into something familiar, less chilling, and Lucy found herself blinking away sleep and confusion to register someone shaking her awake.

“Mom?”

“Lucy, you’re having a nightmare! Calm down!”

“Mom? Oh my god, Mom!” Lucy sat upright on the couch where she had fallen asleep and clung tightly to her mother. She had to refrain from her digging her nails in, desperate to keep her from fading away into nothingness.

“It’s was only a dream, honey. Whatever it was, it wasn’t real.” Her mother rubbed her back and pulled her close. The gesture was comforting and familiar, like she was a little girl again, safe in her mother’s arms.

“If felt real. It felt so real,” she muttered into her mother’s shoulder, her breaths slowing to a normal rhythm.

“It’s only your imagination, darling.” Her mother pulled away, and Lucy stopped herself from pulling her back. Her mother frowned from where she was perched on the edge of the sofa. “You should go upstairs to bed, honey. You’ll sleep better up there.”

Lucy nodded and ran her hands across her face as her mother stood. _It was only a dream,_ she reassured herself. It was only a dream. It was only-

The jarring buzz of her cell phone vibrating on the coffee table nearly caused her to jump out of her skin. She swung her legs off the couch and snatched it up, already knowing who it would be.

“What’s up?” She had hoped her voice would sound casual, but from the look on her mother’s face, she knew it was anything but.

“Lucy, it’s Rufus. Agent Christopher tried calling you, but you didn’t pick up.”

“Yeah… sorry,” Lucy glanced up her mother, who was peering down at her with her arms crossed. “I… I fell asleep and-”

“We’re all here at the warehouse. Flynn took the-” Rufus stopped short. “Are you okay? You don’t sound too hot.” Lucy could faintly hear Wyatt’s rough voice in the background, asking ‘What happened?’ Rufus answered, “I don’t know, she-” before returning to the phone. “Lucy? Are you still there? Did something happen?”

Lucy had already stood and was halfway to her purse. “No, I’m fine. I’m on my way.” She ended the call before Rufus could ask any more questions and grabbed her sweater off the back of a chair. Her mother was hot on her heels.

“Lucy, I really think you ought to stay home and rest.” She insisted, following her into the entryway. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lucy paused at the front door, suppressing a shudder at the memory of her dream. She turned to face her mother. “I can’t mom, I have to go to work. It’s-”

“Important,” her mother finished impatiently. “Yes, I know. I just think it’s crazy for you to push yourself like this.” She gently took Lucy’s arms. It was so different than the way dream-Flynn had manhandled her. “I don’t like what the stress of this job is doing to you.”

Lucy sighed and studied her mother’s face, etching it into her memory. “I’ll be fine, Mom,” she insisted. Lucy suddenly pulled her close, hugging her more tightly than she meant to. Would this be the last time she saw her? Would either of them still exist when she returned? “I’ll see you when I get back.” Lucy pulled away, attempted a final reassuring smile, and prayed that she was right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thanks to my beta-angel Timeless-Librarian on Tumblr!

“She didn’t say what was wrong?” Wyatt asked again, pacing the limited length of the Mason Industries entryway. To call the entrance area a ‘room’ would have been an overstatement; it was virtually a ground-floor stairwell equipped with an armed guard.

Rufus sat restlessly on the stairs up to the main building, his fingers laced to keep him from fidgeting. It was mildly successful, but his extra energy escaped through his foot, which tapped anxiously on the metal step. “No, I told you three times already. She just sounded really… off. And not like, ‘I-just-woke-up-and-need-a-cup-of-coffee’ off, you know? More like-”

"Yeah,” Wyatt interrupted, cutting him off before he could get going. “I know.” Rufus tended to ramble when he was nervous, and Wyatt wasn’t in the mood for a tangent. He checked his watch again, the third time in as many minutes.They had come down to the entrance to wait for Lucy the minute she’d hung up on Rufus.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Rufus assured him with an unconvincing attempt at nonchalance. “It’s probably, uh, late night traffic, or-” he interrupted himself this time, exhaling in sudden relief, “Oh, thank god, she’s here,” he breathed.

Wyatt turned to see Lucy through the glass door, flashing her badge for security, and felt himself relax. She looked tired and pale, but, at the very least, she was all in one piece. Her eyebrows flew up in surprise to see them waiting, but she quickly recovered and smiled weakly as she was let inside.

The tight feeling in Wyatt’s chest eased. “Lucy, there you are,” he sighed. “Are you okay?”  Rufus was up now, standing at his side.

“I’m fine,” Lucy said, smiling weakly. “Just a little tired. Sorry I’m late, let’s go,” she rushed, failing to sound casual. Wyatt looked down at Lucy’s trembling fingers as they fumbled with her security badge and frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. Lucy followed his gaze to her shaking hands and flushed, averting her eyes and shoving her hands into the pockets of her sweater to hide them from sight.

Rufus frowned and tilted his head in front of Lucy, trying to make eye contact with her. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Because-”

“I said I’m fine!” Lucy insisted abruptly. She slid past the two of them and made a beeline for the stairs. “Come on, I’ve already made us late.”

Wyatt and Rufus exchanged a thoroughly unconvinced look. 

Wyatt sighed dramatically. “Guess we have to do this the hard way, huh Rufus?”

“Guess so,” said Rufus, a little louder for Lucy’s benefit.

The odd exchange gave Lucy pause. She peered over her shoulder in confusion and was startled as the two men passed her on either side. “What are you-” 

 They stood together, shoulder-to-shoulder in the front of the stairwell and crossed their arms like a pair of unlikely bouncers. They gazed down at her expectantly, blocking her way. 

 Lucy sighed and threw her arms up, exasperated.“Guys, come on. We have to go.”

Wyatt stood firm, eyebrow raised. “Tell us what’s wrong and we can all go up together,” he said pleasantly. “Ma’am,” he couldn’t help but add, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards.

It was Lucy’s turn to cross her arms, but she sounded anything but pleasant. “Wyatt. Rufus,” she clipped. “Flynn has the mothership _ right now _ . Who knows what havoc he could be wreaking on history while we stand around?” 

“I guess you’d better tell us then,” Rufus said in a tone that implied that he could wait there all night.

Lucy pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, as though considering trying to get past them by force. It was a tactic Wyatt thought highly unlikely to work. Lucy was five inches shorter than either of one of them and had a distinct lack of muscle mass. She seemed to have come to a similar conclusion, and made a sound of indignant frustration. “Fine,” she relented, her voice sharp. “I had a nightmare, okay? It was nothing.”

Rufus dropped his tough-guy act. His arms fell to his sides and his shoulders slumped. “But you sounded scared over the phone…”

Wyatt kept his arms crossed, but his face softened. “Tell us about it,” he said gently. Lucy had been through a lot lately, and Wyatt had seen more than his fair share of PTSD-fueled nightmares. He knew that it wasn’t healthy to bear them alone.

Lucy hesitated, looking helplessly between the two of them. “It… I…” She sighed, covering her face with her hands. “I’m worried,” she admitted, her voice small. “I’m worried and I’m scared.” She tentatively dropped her hands, eyes still downcast. “I’m worried that what we’re trying to do here is crazy and impossible, and I’m scared that no matter what we do to stop Flynn, it won’t be enough. I’m scared that one of these days I’m going to come home and my mother won’t be here anymore. Or that...” A shiver shook her slender shoulders and Wyatt resisted an instinctual need to put his arm around her. “Or that I won’t exist here anymore… and that all of it will be my fault.” She looked back up at them and Wyatt could clearly see how exhausted she was. “That’s it,” she finished weakly. “That’s all of it. The end. Can we go now?   


Wyatt cast a sidelong glance at Rufus, who had a look of utmost concern on his face. He struggled to find the right words to comfort her. Wyatt looked back to Lucy and studied her for a moment before nodding. He stepped aside to let her pass. “Yeah, we can go.”   


Lucy was relieved, but Rufus did a double take. “That’s it?” he sputtered incredulously. “That’s all you have to say?”   


Wyatt sighed, running a hand through his hair. Now that he knew what was wrong with Lucy, he felt increasingly anxious to go and stop Flynn. “Look, Rufus, we don’t have to talk everything to death.” He looked to Lucy. “We just have to be honest with each other. We can’t take care of each other if we’re left guessing what’s wrong all the time.” He looked pointedly between the two. “Agreed?”   


Rufus nodded, placated. Lucy gave a weary but genuine smile. “Agreed,” they said in unison.   

Wyatt clapped his hands together, calling the meeting to an end. “Cool. Now, let’s go get the bad guy. You guys have made us late enough.” Wyatt quickly turned and led the way up the stairs, smirking at the indignant looks on his teammates’ faces.

 

* * *

 

Agent Denise Christopher stood on the platform level with the Lifeboat, lips pursed and arms crossed. She turned as her team filed down the stairs, greeting them with narrowed eyes. “It’s nice of you to join us.” she chided, as though waiting for an explanation.    


“Family emergency,” Rufus said shortly as he casually pulled up a chair beside Jiya’s workstation. 

Wyatt smirked at Lucy and found that she was wearing a small but satisfied smile of her own.  _ Good,  _ he thought. _ She’s feeling better _ . 

Rufus lazily draped his arm over Jiya’s shoulder and peeked at the computer monitor. “So, where’s Flynn?”

Jiya typed skillfully, pulling a map and a timestamp onto her screen. “Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. August 1st, 1901.”   


It sounded familiar, but Wyatt couldn’t place why. “What’s in-”   


“The Wright brothers.” Rufus and Lucy answered together, sounding equally enthused.

“On December 17th, 1903, Wilbur and Orville Wright accomplished the first free, controlled, and sustained flight of a power-driven, heavier-than-air machine.” Lucy recited, as though she were giving one of her history lectures. 

“That’s a mouthful,” drawled Wyatt, not sure he’d understood all of it.

“If that doesn’t happen until 1903, then why is Flynn in 1901?” Agent Christopher interrupted. “He’s two years early.”   


Rufus was more than eager to demonstrate his own history knowledge. “Wilbur Wright thought the reason so many other guys failed at flight was because they spent too much time building their flying machines and not enough time in the air testing prototypes.”   


“So,” Lucy chimed in, “In the years leading up to their first successful flight, Wilbur and Orville spent their summers in the Kill Devil Hills south of Kitty Hawk testing their gliders and, eventually, the famous Wright flyer.”   


“But the summer of 1901 didn’t actually go so well,” Rufus interjected.    


Wyatt put a hand up to stop the wall of information coming at him. “But why-”   


Agent Christoper looked sorry she’d asked. “That’s enough,” she said impatiently. “You can all continue this conversation in transit. We’re losing valuable time that Flynn could be using to clip america’s wings. Literally. Now, get a move on!”

 

* * *

 

At the Mason Industries wardrobe dock, Rufus and Wyatt were fitted with period-appropriate two-piece suits. Rufus stood before a full-length mirror, admiring the light grey wool while Wyatt loaded his gun and stowed it in his shoulder holster, hiding it from view with a navy blue suit jacket of his own. In a matter of minutes, the men were fully dressed and ready for takeoff.

Rufus climbed into the Lifeboat first to start preparations for departure. When he had almost finished his preliminary checks, he heard Wyatt lumber in behind him. He felt a light tap on his shoulder. “Here you go, buddy. Wardrobe guy told me to give you a hat.”    


“Oh, thanks, Wyatt.” Rufus reached his hand back and took the newsboy cap. He looked it over briefly and shrugged. Not his usual style, but whatever. He slapped it on and finished his systems analysis. “As soon as Lucy gets here, we’re good to go,” he announced. He spun around in his chair and frowned indignantly at Wyatt, who had leaned back lazily in his seat. He looked as smooth as a gangster in a men’s fedora. “Dude, what gives?”   


Wyatt had the hat sitting low on his forehead so that it covered his eyes. He pushed it back up where it belonged with the tip of his finger. “What?”   


Rufus gestured at the hat. “Why do you get to wear the fedora?” he complained. “I look like a newsie!”   


“C’mon Rufus, you look fine,” Wyatt insisted, although his blue eyes twinkled in amusement. “Besides, out of the two of us, who would make the better Indiana Jones?”   


“I don’t know, Wyatt. Maybe the one of us with a doctorate?”

Lucy’s arrival put an end to the debate. “Keep your cap, Rufus. Fedoras won’t be widely used for another twenty years after we arrive. Yours will fit in more.” She tried to get her leg up past her long skirts and into the Lifeboat, but it was difficult for her. It looked to Rufus and Wyatt like she couldn’t bend at the waist. 

Wyatt jumped to his feet and helped Lucy into the Lifeboat and to her seat. Once the ordeal was over, she sighed in relief. She had been given a brown floor-length skirt and ivory blouse with a deep red kerchief tied at its high collar. Her hair was pinned up and topped off with a flowered hat, adorned with red carnations. She pulled at her neckwear in discomfort. “Is it hot in here. Or-”   


“It’s just you,” Wyatt answered for her, obligingly leaning forward in his seat to buckle her in. As he pulled the seat belt in place, his hand brushed against something very solid. He raised his eyebrows and rapped softly against Lucy’s stomach with the back of his knuckles. He smirked at the satisfying knocking sound. “Is that a corset or a bullet-proof vest?” he teased.   


Lucy was unamused. “You’ve seen me wear corsets before, Wyatt. I just don’t remember the other ones being so tight.” She squirmed in her seat, trying to dislodge one of the stays from her hip. “More modern bras won’t be in fashion for another 10 years at least, where we’re going. The same with zippers.” She gestured to the fasteners on her boots, one of the reasons she had taken so long getting dressed. “How did anyone ever have time for all of these damn buttons?”   


Rufus turned back to the controls, ready to go. “Without the internet, I’m sure people had time for a lot of things,” he mused, buckling his own seatbelt. “It’s why we have stuff like cars, and the polio vaccine, and the internet.”   


Wyatt finished buckling Lucy in and gave her arm a pat to signal that she was good to go. He leaned back and deftly hooked up his own restraints. “So,” he asked his teammates, “if the Wright brothers don’t fly until 1903, why did Flynn choose 1901?”

“I can only guess,” Lucy admitted, “but by 1903, a lot of the hard work had already been done. The summer of 1901 was actually kind of a letdown. Not a lot went right.” Lucy rested her head against the back of her chair, breathing deep in preparation for the time jump. “Maybe he thinks it will be easier to stop them before they gain momentum?    


“So in other words,” said Rufus, turning a dial, “Flynn’s trying to get in there and kick them while they’re down.” He hit the the final switches to send the Lifeboat hurtling through time and space.   


“Figures,” Wyatt mumbled. He closed his eyes and firmly grasped the sides of his chair as he felt the familiar and unsettling jerking sensation behind his eyes, stomach, and groin.


	3. Chapter 3

More than a hundred years in the past, the Lifeboat shuddered to a halt. Rufus leaned forward, almost involuntarily, against his restraints. He squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the overwhelming pounding in his head to clear. When it had dulled to a weak throb, he eased back and gingerly turned in his seat to check on his passengers.

Wyatt’s eyes were still closed, his knuckles white where they gripped the sides of his chair. Lucy’s head was tilted back and she was taking deep, controlled breaths, murmuring what sounded suspiciously like ‘ _don’t pass out, don’t pass out_ ’.

“You okay, guys?” Rufus asked roughly, not sure he wouldn’t be sick himself. He had almost lost count of the number of times he’d piloted the Lifeboat, but landing it still left him as queasy as his first ride.

Lucy took another long breath before answering. “Yeah… I think so. Corsets just don’t make time travel any easier.” She weakly opened one eye and nudged Wyatt’s ankle with the toe of her boot. Her limbs felt like jelly. “How about you, Wyatt?” Wyatt merely grunted and slowly began to pry his stiff hands open.

Feeling the worst of his own personal sickness fade, Rufus thought he’d give his teammates a moment to recover. He crawled ahead of them out of the ship and into the cool Carolina wilderness. The sky was dark, dotted with the occasional twinkle of fading stars, and through the surrounding trees the horizon glowed with the impending threat of sunrise.

Rufus clambered down the side of the Lifeboat and landed on soft, moist ground. He tentatively dug his heels into the dirt,  but they didn’t sink too deeply. That was good. That meant that they wouldn’t return to a Lifeboat half-submerged in the mud. He peered through semi-darkness, eyes adjusting to the limited light. From what he could make out, he had parked them in a heavily wooded area on the edge of an expanse of marshland.

Behind him, a much livelier Wyatt jumped out of the Lifeboat’s hatch ahead of Lucy, whose brow was furrowed in determination as she manhandled her thick skirts. Wyatt and Rufus each offered a hand to help her down and she took them gratefully, sliding down the side of the ship with relative ease.

“Where are we?” Wyatt asked, his sharp blue eyes shrewdly assessing the landscape.

Rufus squinted around as well, trying to see anything else through the trees. Not that he thought he could contribute more to that cause than a delta-force solider. At least being the pilot gave him the benefit of knowing exactly where they had landed. “We’re a mile and a half north of Kitty Hawk.” He looked over the marsh to the east, where the sky was tinged with lighter blue. “And it’s really damn early in the morning.”

Wyatt nodded in agreement and reached up to press the buttons that closed the ship’s hatch. “Looks like the sun will be up soon enough. How far out are they, Lucy?”

She sighed and rested her hands on her hips in thought. Even in the dim light of early morning, Wyatt couldn’t help but notice how tiny her waist looked in her corset.“I’d say we have a good eight miles ahead us,” said Lucy, sounding disappointed by her own estimate. “At least.”

“Guess we’d better get going, then,” said Wyatt.

The trio picked their way through the dense woods to a lightly worn road that stretched north and south.  Without a GPS, Rufus’ sense of direction was severely lacking, so he was thankful to only have the two options. With a fair amount of confidence, he led the way south toward Kitty Hawk. The three walked in relative silence, the only noise provided by chirping birds and early-rising cows as they entered farmland.

“Fill me in,” Wyatt said seriously, breaking the silence, “What exactly does Flynn have to do to stop the Wright brothers?”

“Not a whole lot, actually.” Lucy admitted. “At this point they’re kind of throwing things at the wall to see what sticks.”

“They’re getting good distance,” said Rufus, almost defensively, as he waved away a cloud of gnats, “but the lift they’re getting is a third of what the math says it should be. They can’t even steer the plane for too long without crashing it.”

Wyatt nodded thoughtfully, processing this information. “Why would Flynn want to stop something that’s not succeeding?”

The early morning had been cool and dewy, but the mid-summer sun was rising quickly. The air was already humid, and they had all begun to sweat under their layers of cotton and wool. Lucy pulled at her uncomfortably high collar. “Like I said, it’s probably because it’s easier to stop something that hasn’t begun. The Wright’s aren’t flying now, but their failures this summer dictate what they do for the next year. They go home to Ohio, build a wind tunnel, create new calculations. They make important connections with other aviation pioneers.”

“They basically create physical proof of what they’re doing,” Rufus offered. “It’s part of the reason they get the credit in the end. A lot of other guys said they flew first, but didn’t have the documentation to prove it.”

“But the Wrights won’t file for their first patent for two more years, and they won’t get it for five.” Lucy explained. “The world doesn’t even believe that flying is possible until they demonstrate the Wright Flyer in France in 1908. If Flynn stops them later, their work still exists, but right now all they have are diagrams, their notes, and some photographs that haven’t been developed yet.”

“And the glider.” Rufus reminded her. Lucy nodded in agreement.

“Maybe Flynn came back to destroy their work,” she mused. “Get rid of their proof.”

“Sounds complicated.” Wyatt frowned grimly. “He doesn’t have to bother with any of that if he just plans on killing them.”

Rufus prefered not to think about that. “Are we almost there?” he asked, suddenly eager to change the subject. He removed his cap to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve. “And why is it so damn hot? Where is all of that famous Kitty Hawk wind?”

“We’ll be there soon, Rufus.” Lucy huffed, her cheeks pink with the combination of exertion and heat. “The cape is narrow, so civilization will be hard to miss.” She undid the kerchief from around her neck and wiped the back of her neck with it.

“What are the chances that Kitty Hawk is remarkably forward-thinking for the turn of the century?” asked Rufus cynically.

Lucy cringed, throwing an him an apologetic grimace. “Zero-to-none. Kitty Hawk is incredibly white and incredibly secluded. Most of them have never left the county, let alone the state.”

Rufus glowered at the silhouette of houses in the distance. “Awesome,” he grumbled.

 

* * *

 

It was difficult to say when farmland ended and ‘civilization’ began. Kitty Hawk was, apparently, a town that so rarely received visitors that they hadn’t bothered with a sign.

 The team managed to remain unseen and unbothered through a series of plain and unpainted houses with increasingly scraggly, sandy yards (“Is this what passes for the suburbs out here?” Rufus quipped) before finding Main Street. The unpaved road stretched an impressive half-mile. Lucy glanced curiously in the windows of the few businesses as they passed, watching with interest as store-owners prepared for the day.

 It was still early, and not many of Kitty Hawk’s residents were out and about the town. Those that were seemed, at best, bemused at the odd trio and, at worst, perturbed. Wyatt caught the eye of a small, frail-looking elderly woman and tipped his hat in the style of John Wayne. Her watery grey eyes narrowed and she huffed indignantly before scuttling away, throwing a scandalized look at Rufus and Lucy.

“What’s her problem?” Wyatt asked, although he thought he might already know the answer.

Rufus watched in bewilderment as she fled. “I get why she doesn’t like me, but what did Lucy do?”  The old woman now stood across the street, glaring at them from a safe distance.

“I’m not wearing my engagement ring,” muttered Lucy, quickening her pace. Wyatt and Rufus lengthened their strides to keep up with her. “She probably doesn’t approve of an unmarried woman travelling alone with two strange men.”

Surprised, Wyatt looked sharply down at Lucy’s hand. Sure enough, the ring finger on her clenched fist was bare. Why hadn’t he noticed before? Why did he care that he hadn’t noticed before? Did she finally make a decision about Noah? He shook the thoughts away and tried to concentrate on the mission at hand. The mission was what mattered.

 “You know, she is right about one thing,” Rufus mused, glancing over his shoulder at the woman. “We’re the strangest thing she’ll ever see. She’ll just never know why.”

 

* * *

 

Kitty Hawk was not, and never would be, a sprawling metropolis. The houses became fewer and farther between, and soon the team was out of town, onto the outer banks, and into mosquito territory.

 “This place bites.” Rufus complained. He slapped at another blood sucker on the back of his hand.

“Literally,” agreed Wyatt.”I am getting eaten alive by these damn mosquitoes.” He waved a buzzing pest away from his ear. “Is it just me, or are they getting worse the closer we get?”

Lucy scratched at a swelling bite on her own wrist. She was trying to stay positive, but the boys were making it hard. “Welcome to North Carolina,” she snapped. “Every ten years the area is hit with an explosion in the mosquito population.”

“And 1901 happens to be one of those years.” grumbled Wyatt. “Lucky us.”

The road had long since fallen away. They now faced a trek through sand dunes, a stark contrast to the vibrant blue of the unending Carolina sky. It would have been breathtaking if Lucy had air left in her lungs; every breath was now spent keeping herself vertical in the infuriatingly soft sand. Her pointed shoes sunk deep with every step, causing her to stumble frequently. Wyatt and Rufus stayed dutifully close by either side of her, ready to pull her out of her self-made sand-traps.

Rufus shook his head furiously, whether to express his disbelief or shake off another family of mosquitoes, it was hard to tell. “I kind of expected ocean breezes and flying planes with the Wright brothers,” he griped. “Man, I hope they don’t turn out to be racists. I kind of worshiped those guys when I was a kid.

Lucy smiled, leaping at the opportunity for a distraction from from the sand in her shoes and the growing discomfort from her swelling bug bites. “Did you always want to be a pilot, Rufus?”

He shrugged bashfully. “Kind of. I mean, I always loved airplanes and rockets and stuff... As a kid, I was always kind of bitter that my brother was too young to play Wright brothers with me,” he admitted, pausing to help Lucy out of the sand. “I used to pull him around the neighborhood in a beat up Radio Flyer with these flimsy little cardboard wings taped to the sides.” He grinned sheepishly at the memory. It was infectious, and Wyatt grinned too. Rufus scratched at the back of his head. “It’s a damn shame, too. I would have made the perfect Wilbur. He was the brains of the operation, you know.”

Lucy felt a pang so sharp she almost winced. She had similar memories with her sister, of the two of them pulling each other around in a bright red wagon and arguing over who’d get to be Amelia Earhart next. Her chest tightened. What if Rufus came home from a mission one day and his brother was gone? She smiled through another pang, only managing a soft, “Yeah. I know.”

“Sorry to interrupt your trip down memory lane,” said Wyatt suddenly, “but I think we’re here.” He gestured to something drifting in and out of sight between the dunes.

Rufus’s jaw dropped in awe. “Is that...”

Lucy’s heart leapt, her worries temporarily forgotten at the sight of it.“The Wright Glider.” She picked up her skirts a little higher and attempted to run up the sandy slope, but only succeed in digging herself deeper, nearly falling on her knees. Wyatt laughed and helpfully took her by the elbow to hoist her upright. A snickering Rufus followed suit at her other side, lifting her out of the sand. Together, they practically carried her through the dunes to meet the Wright brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual thanks to beta, Timeless-Librarian


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual thanks to timeless-librarian on Tumblr for beta!

As a professor, Lucy had always taken comfort in history. It was predictable. It was reliable. It could be explained. She knew it like the back of her hand.

As a time traveler, she could only really put her trust in two things: her team, and the fact that the history books hardly ever do justice to reality.

The wind picked up and pulled at their clothes as they emerged from between the hills and found themselves at the Wright brother’s camp. It was nestled perfectly on a flat stretch of beach between the massive sand dunes and the roaring Atlantic Ocean. The silhouette of the unmanned Wright Glider twisted and bucked against the cloudless blue sky as two men held tightly to its ropes, running at full speed across the beach while it soared over their heads.

Three other men observed intently from a distance, yet to have detected the approaching strangers. Two of them were particularly engrossed in conversation while the third, a short, mustached, red faced man in a straw hat, watched them in mild amusement.  

“Who are these other guys?” asked Wyatt as they neared the gathering of men. He counted six altogether, along with several young boys running around and chasing each other with sticks. They paused as the children darted in front of them; the smallest boy at the rear had his arms outstretched, weaving back and forth in likeness of the plane above them.

“The Wrights are the most interesting thing to happen to Kitty Hawk in years,” said Lucy, smiling at children as they ran past. “They’re probably from Kitty Hawk, or the live-saving station at Nags Head.” She had insisted she be put down and was struggling through the sand on her own once more, unaware of Wyatt’s hand hovering surreptitiously at her elbow.

It was the red-faced man who noticed them first. His bushy eyebrows shot up into his hairline at the sight of Rufus and Lucy.

“Ah… Good mornin’ there, strangers!” he called over the wind. “You folks lost?” he asked pleasantly enough, although he seemed off-put by the unusual demographics of their party.

The other two men, distracted from their discussion, turned to the newcomers. Their faces shifted from looks of deep concentration to mild surprise in near-perfect unison. Rufus heard Lucy’s sharp intake of breath beside him and suddenly realized that he was holding his own.

Wyatt cleared his throat, compensating for his teammates’ sudden inexplicable muteness. “Good morning, sir. We’re looking for Wilbur and Orville Wright?

Rufus nearly cried out in a combination of amusement and embarrassment, but covered it with an unconvincing cough. Lucy suppressed her own exasperation by biting the inside of her lip. 

“Yes, sir, that would be us,” said the older of the two. “Wilbur Wright, at your service.” Wilbur was a thin, balding man in his thirties with serious blue-gray eyes, slightly taller than Wyatt. He offered his hand and Wyatt took it, mouth agape. “And this my brother, Orville.” Orville, who nearly matched his brother's height, jovially pumped Wyatt’s hand as well.

“Good morning, friend,” Orville greeted cheerfully through a thick, dark mustache. He shared his brother’s cloudy blue eyes, but his were rounder and lacked Wilbur’s gravity.

Wilbur gestured to the first man, who was still regarding them cautiously. “This is our good friend from town, Mr. William Tate.” Tate merely nodded, keeping his distance. “How can we assist you fine folks today?” asked Wilbur. His tone was polite, but he eyed them with reserved caution.

“Actually, Mr. Wright,” said Rufus, “My friends and I are here to observe your flights… uh… sirs..” His confidence faltered slightly in the face of a less-than-stellar introduction to his heroes.

“Your… friends?” asked Tate, sounding skeptical. Rufus felt a familiar twinge in his gut, an acidic hybrid of indignation and embarrassment that regularly arose on their missions to the past. His jaw clenched shut and he prepared to swallow the feeling.

Lucy stepped forward and looked Tate in the eye. “Yes. His friends,” she clarified sweetly, holding out her hand for him to shake “I’m Lucy. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tate.”

He shook Lucy’s hand stiffly, lips pursed in stifled disapproval. Orville, however, looked amused as he shook her hand next. He held it warmly between both of his, the corners of his handlebar mustache turning up in a smile. Wilbur took her hand last, studying her with guarded curiosity.

Lucy almost lost her cool under his scrutinizing gaze. Her cheeks tinged pink and it became a struggle not to squirm. She quickly deflected the attention away from herself. “You’ve met my brother, Wyatt Logan,” Wyatt tipped his hat. “And this is our good _friend_ Rufus Carlin. We made the trip down to Kitty Hawk to visit our cousin, and they told us all about what you folks were doing down here. Our _friend_ Rufus is an engineer himself, and we just had to bring him along.” Each and every time she said ‘friend’, she made direct eye contact with Tate.

Rufus’ chest swelled with appreciation for Lucy and, for once, the sour feeling became a little smaller, a little more manageable.

“An engineer, you say?” Wilbur’s skepticism faded and was replaced with enthusiastic interest. He shook Rufus’ hand, his grip surprisingly strong.  “What kind- Mr. Carlin, was it?”

“Yes, Mr. Wright. I’m a…” Rufus hesitated, afraid to slip up and use out-of-date terminology. “I’m a mechanical engineer,” he decided hastily.  Mechanical engineer, computer programmer, time machine pilot - it was close enough, at least for today. “I’m very interested in your flights, from what I’ve heard of them,” he added.

Orville eagerly stepped forward to meet Rufus as well, shaking his hand in both of his as he had with Lucy. “Really?” he asked excitedly. “Where are you from, Mr. Carlin?”

“Chicago, sir.”

“Is that so? We’re from Dayton, ourselves,” Orville looked to his brother, delighted. “Do you hear that, Wil? We’re practically neighbors.”

Rufus’ hometown was of little consequence to Wilbur. He was far more concerned with the business at hand. “You’re familiar with the conundrum of heavier-than-air flight, then, Mr. Carlin? Are you familiar with Lilienthal? Or Langley?”

“Yeah- I mean, yes sir,” Rufus stammered, getting the feeling that he was being quizzed.

“And what do you think of their methods?” questioned Wilbur. He sounded, indeed, like an instructor.

“They’re both brilliant men, sir,” Rufus answered carefully. “Real shame about what happened to Lilienthal.”

Lucy leaned over to a confused Wyatt and whispered, “Otto Lilienthal was a German engineer who was pretty successful until he crashed his experimental glider in ‘96.”

Wyatt grimaced. “I’m guessing things didn’t turn out well for Otto,” he whispered back.

Lucy shook her head grimly. “Broke his neck and died the next day.”

“A terrible shame,” agreed Wilbur somberly. “But Langley remains. Do you feel that he’ll succeed in being the first to master flight?”

Before he could stop himself, Rufus laughed and shook his head. “No way, sir.”

Orville’s eyebrows shot up. “And why not? The papers say he shows great promise!”

Rufus panicked inwardly and his eyes darted to Lucy, afraid he’d messed up. Lucy only looked at him with an expectant smile, her arms crossed. “Oh, uh, what I meant to say was…” Rufus coughed nervously. “That is... his…” Rufus wracked his brain; _What in the hell did Langley call his glider?_  “His... Aerodrome?” Lucy nodded almost imperceptibly and Rufus continued, encouraged. “It’s just not aerodynamic enough to sustain flight.” 

Wilbur nodded thoughtfully, an eyebrow slightly cocked. “And why do you think that our predecessors and colleagues have yet to succeed, Mr. Carlin?”

“Not enough time in the air.” Rufus stated simply, but then hastily added, “Sir.”

Wilbur considered him carefully before he apparently decided that Rufus had passed his test. His face opened up in a  warm smile and he clapped Rufus on the back like he was an old friend. “Orville! Shall we show Mr. Carlin and his friends our little experiment?” He steered Rufus by his shoulder towards the kited plane, Orville at his side.

Tate stood in hesitant silence for a moment before he awkwardly nodded to Wyatt. “Excuse me, sir.” He gave Lucy one last curious look. “Ma’am.” He tipped his straw hat and stalked away towards the playing children without another word.

Wyatt furrowed his brow, watching as Tate called to round up the kids. “He was friendly.”

Lucy sighed, relieved to be rid of the man. “He’s spent his whole life in Kitty Hawk, Wyatt.  It’s Whitesville, USA. Rufus might be the first black man he’s ever been obliged to acknowledge, let alone see as his equal. Or greater, in this case…” She turned her back on Tate and grinned up at Wyatt, nearly bouncing on her heels. “Now, c’mon. Let’s go see the famous Wright Glider!” She sounded positively giddy, and Wyatt couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright, keep your corset on!” he laughed as Lucy pulled on his elbow, partly to move him along, partly to keep from sinking any further into the fine sand.

 

* * *

 

 

“I kind of expected it to be bigger,” Wyatt muttered to Lucy as they approached. The glider had been pulled down to earth and two men were weighing it down with lead weights. The plane came up to Wyatt’s shoulder, and he estimated that the wingspan stretched twenty-two feet from tip to tip.

“This is actually their biggest prototype so far,” Lucy answered in a low voice. She held her closed fists tightly to her body, as though afraid that if she let herself touch the wooden frame it would splinter into a thousand pieces. “But you’re right. The final version is going to be twice as big, and six times heavier once they get the motor in.”

As they neared the group, Rufus stepped away from what looked like a tense exchange between Orville and a fair haired man with a mustache.

“What’s going on?” asked Wyatt, peering over Rufus’ shoulder.

Rufus shook his head wryly. “Some things never change, no matter what century you’re in.” This was met with blank stares, so he elaborated: “They’re engineers. They can’t agree on what to fix next.”

“I've keep tellin' you, if you don't fix your angles, the only direction you'll go is down,” the fair-haired gentleman argued in a southern accent.

Orville shook his head, openly annoyed. “The wings are far from our only problem, Ed,” he said pointedly. “We need to focus on getting proper lift.” 

Ed opened his mouth to argue, but Wilbur calmly cleared his throat, effectively ending the argument. “Come on now, let’s be civil. We’ve planned to fly, and that’s what we’ll do. Corrections will follow.” He ignored Ed’s scowl and called for Tate, who was close by, speaking to a young man. 

Rufus snapped to attention. “You’re going to fly the glider? For real?”

His enthusiasm seemed to lift Orville’s mood. “What else would we fly? Kites? Here, why don’t you help us carry it up the hill?”

Wilbur and Tate were already taking their positions at one wing, and Orville motioned to the other, where he wanted Rufus to lift. “Just there. Yes that’s it, with your legs.” Together, they all hoisted the glider up and carried it towards the incline of a nearby dune. As they passed, Rufus grinned at Lucy and Wyatt with wide eyes as if to say ‘ _Can you believe this?_ ’

Wyatt laughed, shaking his head. “They say you should never meet your heroes… but I think we just found the exception.”

“He might actually be floating a little bit,” agreed Lucy, giggling at the spring in Rufus’ step.

Someone jogging towards them caught Wyatt’s attention.  It was the young man they had just seen speaking to Tate, now with a camera box tucked awkwardly under his arm. 

“Hello there!” called the man cheerfully. He was in his mid-to-late twenties, with dark hair and a healthy tan. “Heard you folks came to join us for the day. Thought I’d come on over and introduce myself.” He reached out with his free hand to shake Wyatt’s. “John Daniels. Nice to meet you.” He took Lucy’s as well, offering her a wink. “You can just call me John, though, ma’am. Not every day we get a visit from such a pretty lady, you know.”

Lucy’s face lit up, but Wyatt knew it wasn’t because of the complement. He didn’t know who John Daniels was, but from the shine in Lucy’s eyes he could tell his name was in a history book somewhere.

“Wow- I mean, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Lucy,” she gushed, cheeks pink with delight.

Wyatt wasn’t interested in standing around while another historical joker tried to hit on Lucy. He loudly cleared his throat, ignoring the agitated look it had earned him from the historian. “I’m Wyatt,” he said roughly, squaring his shoulders.

 John’s broad smile didn’t falter. “Yes, I’d heard you and your sister brought your, ah, friend down with your from somewhere-or-other.” He looked between the two of them curiously. “Where’d you folks say you were from again?”

“D.C.” Lucy said, not missing a beat. “Our cousin lives in town.”

“Oh, who’s your cousin?” he asked in earnest, sidling a little closer to Lucy. “I know just about everyone in Kitty Hawk. You know, I-”

“What exactly is it that you do here, John?” Wyatt interrupted, not eager to have their cover blown by a thin backstory.

Luckily for them, John was easily distracted. “Oh, me? I usually work down at the life-saving station down the way,” He jerked a thumb towards the beach to the south. “But once in awhile I get a reprieve to come and watch our local birdmen take flight.” He shifted the box under his arm and rapped the lid with his knuckles. “Today they’re lettin’ me use their camera to take photographs. Don’t like it much when I try to get them on the film, though.” He grinned mischievously. 

“What do you think of the Wrights, John?” Lucy asked eagerly, her historical curiosity getting the better of her.

John gave a good-natured laugh. “Couple of nuts, if you ask me, but it’s amazing what they can do. My pa says if men were meant to fly, God would’ve have given ‘em wings…” He shrugged, his demeanor shifting to admiration. “But the things those brothers make…” he said, almost reverently. “Why would God have made ’em so smart if they weren’t meant to fly?” 

A sudden shout from one of the men captured John’s attention, snapping him out of his reverie. “Oh! If you’ll excuse me, I have to go set up the camera.” He tipped his hat at Lucy, offering her another wink. “I look forward to talking to you again, ma’am.” A tip of the hat to Wyatt as well and he was off.

“Everywhere we go,” Wyatt mumbled, rolling his eyes. Now free of distraction, he began to survey the area. 

“What?” Lucy asked defensively. “That was John T. Daniels! He takes the famous photo of the Wright’s first successful flight! It would be insane to pass up the chance to talk to him.”

Wyatt smirked, tearing his gaze away from the dunes to glance down at the indignant look on Lucy’s face. “That’s not what I meant,” he chuckled, turning a scrutinizing eye back on the hills. 

“Then what did you-” She stopped short and followed his gaze to the south. “What on earth are you looking at?” She asked, confused.

Wyatt adjusted his hat to shade his eyes from the sun. “I’m looking for some sign of Flynn and his guys… but I don’t see anything but sand. We should have seen them by now… did we get here first?”

“It’s unlikely. He had a head start.” Lucy recalled a map she’d once seen of the Kill Devil Hills. “There’s not exactly a good place to hide… Behind a dune, maybe? Or there’s a wooded area, but it’s not close enough to see from here.

“But with all these hills, they could easily be watching us,” said Wyatt..

The hairs on the back of Lucy’s neck stood on end. “Do you really think we’re being watched?”

“It’s more than possib-” Wyatt was cut off by a sudden squeak from Lucy. He instinctively reached for the gun in his holster, “What? What is it?”

Lucy was almost hopping up and down in excitement, her sights on the men at the top of the dunes. “Wyatt! Rufus is about help launch the glider!”

 

* * *

 

 

At the top of the hill, Rufus’ heart pounded in anticipation.

“Alright, Mr. Carlin. We’re all going to run, and when I give the signal, you, Mr. Tate, and Orville will all let go.” Wilbur positioned himself nearer to the center of the plane, his knees bent as if he himself were ready to take flight.

“Right. Got it.” Rufus took his place at the rear of the glider, while Orville and Tate took opposite wing-tips.

“Very good. Now, go!” The four men began to run, and the wooden frame of the glider shuddered in Rufus’ grip as the wind tried to take it. His hands were sweating so much that he worried they’d leave prints on the wood when he let it go.

As the hill began it’s decline, Wilbur jumped and pulled himself belly first into the plane. “Now!” 

With all of his strength, Rufus gave the glider a final shove. It was hardly necessary; the glider soared easily away from them, warping to and fro as Wilbur tested the controls. At the bottom of the hill, Lucy waved excitedly, and Rufus couldn’t help but laugh. He grinned and lifted his hands high above his head, feeling victorious.

 

* * *

 

 

Despite the looming threat of danger, Wyatt was enraptured with the sight of the would-be plane on the wind. He had been up in airplanes more times than he could count; he hadn’t honestly believed that seeing something two guys built in a shed would ever stack up. He had been so flippant about it, but as he watched the glider now, he was suddenly awestruck.

“Who’d have ’thunk that watching someone fly in balsa-glider would be so thrilling?” He felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him.

“I think it’s cedar; but I know what you mean.” Lucy teased, equally breathless.“Isn’t it amazing? In two years, they’ll do it for real. December 17th, 1903. Twelve seconds and a hundred and twenty feet. Just like that, they become the fathers of flight.”

Wyatt tore his eyes away from the man-made miracle to look incredulously at Lucy. “You don’t call that flying?” he asked in disbelief. 

Lucy shook her head, bright eyes glued to the glider. “Not yet. For a lack of a better phrase, they’re falling with style.”

 

* * *

 

 

Up on the dune, Orville stood beside Rufus, breathless. “It’s amazing, isn’t it Mr. Carlin?”

Rufus was dimly aware that he was still smiling like an idiot, but he didn’t care. “It’s one of the most amazing things anyone has ever done.”

Orville laughed. “I’m inclined to agree!” He beamed proudly at the glider, still aloft with Wilbur in it. “Amazing,” he echoed.

“Will you get to fly it next?” Rufus asked, already excited to try again.

The glint in Orville’s eye faltered slightly. “Oh no, Wilbur does all the flying. He’s very protective, of me and the glider,” he explained, quick to jump to his brother’s defense. “He wants to keep me safe, is all,” He sighed longingly. “But I will admit… Every time he flies, I’m filled with envy.”

Rufus imagined the fateful coin toss that would someday happen on this beach. It was a heads-or-tails bet for the right to fly that he knew would land in Orville’s favor. “You’ll get your chance,” Rufus promised, trying to keep the knowing smile from spreading too far across his face.

“I’m sure I will.” Orville agreed confidently. He clapped a hand on Rufus’ back, apparently a Wright-family gesture. “If it’s the last thing I do on this earth, Rufus, it will be to get off it. Even if just for a moment.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: After I wrote this chapter, I read that John T. Daniels had never actually held a camera before the first flight in December 1903. He was so taken aback by the sight of it, he nearly forgot to take the photo.


	5. Chapter 5

Lucy knew with certainty that none of the Wright’s original gliders would survive to see the twenty-first century. The business of flying was not a gentle one, and time and gravity showed no mercy to man or machine. That day, however, the glider managed to evade its fate. Wilbur guided it to a graceful landing, it wings dragging long, smooth grooves in the rippled sand.

The argumentative Ed and a dark haired man with an angular face set forth with a set of lead weights to keep the glider grounded. As they convened at the right wing of the glider, Lucy noticed that Ed’s weights were placed quickly and haphazardly while the other man’s were straight and even spaced.

The time-travelers were formally introduced to them by Orville. Edward Huffaker was a loud, brash, former Smithsonian employee who originally hailed from Tennessee. The other was Pennsylvania physician George Spratt. Unlike Ed, he was mild-mannered and clean-cut, but sported the same thick mustache.

“Are you in the flyin’ game too?” Ed asked Wyatt, shaking his hand boisterously. He ignored Rufus and Lucy, who shared a commiserating look.

Wyatt shook his head. “Me? Not so much. If you want a wing-man you’ll want to talk to Rufus.” Wyatt hitched his thumb at Rufus, and Ed blinked in surprise.

“Seriously?” he asked bluntly, earning a sharp look from Orville.

“Mr. Carlin is a mechanical engineer, Ed,” Orville said testily.

“And where on earth would he learn how to do that?” Ed scoffed.

“At the Massachusetts Institute of Technology,” Rufus blurted, exasperated.

Ed’s eyebrows flew up and his jaw dropped. Rufus instantly regretted his outburst, and had opened his mouth (to say what, he wasn’t sure) when George Spratt spoke first.

“Astounding,” said George in awe. However, he wasn’t speaking about Rufus. He was gazing at Ed, sincerely impressed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ed speechless before.”

Rufus thought he saw a satisfied smirk behind Orville’s twitching mustache. “There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.”

With Ed less inclined to undermine Rufus’ intelligence, the conversation flowed easily. George and Orville were eager to hear Rufus’ opinions on various issues common to popular glider designs. They would occasionally ask Wyatt what he knew, but he was quick to admit that science was not his forte. Lucy was more or less forgotten.

Her shoulders sagged under the realization that this was not a conversation she could get in on. Rufus had already proven himself to be useful and intelligent, and Wyatt was worthy of the engineers’ attention purely by the value of being a white male. Lucy had neither of these assets to her name. The only way these men would see her was as a tag-along and, by the way Ed Huffaker had taken to ogling her, as a pretty face.

Despondent, her gaze drifted, and she realized that Wilbur Wright was no longer among them. She glanced curiously around and spotted him close by, no more than twenty feet away at the other end of the glider. His head was craned upwards to watch intently as a seagull hovered overhead. Occasionally, he broke his focus to scribble in a small field notebook with a pencil.

Lucy peeked back at Rufus and Wyatt, engaged in something Orville was saying. She quietly removed herself and crossed the distance of the the plane to stand tentatively beside Wilbur. He didn’t acknowledge her presence; he only gazed up at the bird soaring almost lazily on the wind. Lucy opened her mouth to say something, but immediately closed it again, all of the words in her vocabulary suddenly overwhelmingly insufficient.

“Are you much of a bird watcher, Miss Logan?” asked Wilbur, breaking the silence. His tone was casual and polite, but Lucy’s heart slammed against her rib cage in surprise.

“Who, me?” She had already forgotten that she’d introduced herself as Wyatt’s sister. “Oh, you can just call me Lucy,” she blurted without thinking. Wait. Shit. No. That is not what a lady would say to a gentleman at the turn of the century. “I mean, no. Sorry. I can’t say that I know a lot about it. Bird watching, that is. But I can appreciate the value in it,” she added hastily.  “It must be invaluable for your work, to watch them fly.” _Nice save, Preston,_ she thought, mentally kicking herself.

“It is, extremely so.” Wilbur was seemingly unfazed by her outburst and Lucy relaxed. She must not have sounded as odd as she’d feared; or if she did, Wilbur Wright was too polite to acknowledge it. He kept his eye on the gull, holding the tip of the pencil to the page. “Learning the secret of flight from a bird is a good deal like learning magic from a magician.” 

Lucy couldn’t help but smile as she thought of her recent encounter with Harry Houdini. “Are birds as good at keeping their secrets as magicians?”

Wilbur nodded seriously. “They are, since birds don’t usually speak any language known to man. In that way, they’re far superior to any magician I’ve ever met.” He peeked at Lucy out of the corner of his eye, perhaps to see if his joke had landed. A thin smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Lucy smiled back up at him, ecstatic to be making jokes with _the_ Wilbur Wright. She was about to speak again when suddenly a shift in the wind pulled her flowered hat free of its pins and off her head. She cried out and made to grab for it, jumping up on her toes. Her boots only sunk into the sand and her hand closed around empty air.

Wilbur, being much taller, reached up and caught the hat in one hand with surprising ease. He looked at it in mild amazement, as though taken aback by his own quick reflexes. He gave his head a little shake and presented it to Lucy with a soft smile. “Here you are. It would be a shame to lose such a lovely hat, Miss Lucy.” She felt a radiating heat creep onto her cheeks.

“Wow!  You just-  I mean, thank you.” She didn’t attempt to pin it back on. She only held onto it tightly, afraid another gust might snatch it away again. “It’s so much windier out here than in town. Does it ever let up?”

Wilbur shook his head. “I can’t say that it does; and thank the Lord for that, for we’d be grounded without it.” He gestured up at the gull with his pencil. It had been joined by several others, unperturbed by the sudden change in the wind. “No bird soars in a calm, Miss Lucy.” He paused, looking pensive. He mulled over his words before opening his notebook again and jotting his thought down.

Lucy watched him in fascination, then peeked down at the pages. The paper was wrinkled with reading and rereading, and several pages were dog-eared or coffee stained. Lucy’s chest tightened as she was abruptly reminded of a similar-looking journal, brandished menacingly over her by Garcia Flynn. She shivered, and not because she was chilled by the wind.

“Are you ever discouraged?” She asked impulsively, her heart racing.

“Hm?” Wilbur asked distractedly, glancing up from his writing. “Discouraged, you said? Do you mean about flying?”

“From any of it? All of it?” He only blinked at her, and she sighed. “You have to know that people think you’re crazy for even trying.”

Wilbur’s eyebrows raised, taken aback at this turn in the conversation. He closed his notebook and considered Lucy carefully before turning thoughtful eyes back up to the still-hovering birds. “‘ _The birds can fly and why can’t I?’_ ” he said, so softly that Lucy wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. 

“I’m sorry?”

“You haven’t heard that one?” He looked down at her, frowning. “It’s that dreadful poem that’s so popular…” He shook his head and Lucy thought he might roll his eyes. “ _Darius Green and his Flying Machine._ ” 

It was Lucy’s turn to frown. “It sounds familiar.”

“It’s so long that it’s a wonder anyone bothers to read it all.” Wilbur said disdainfully. “It’s about a foolish farmhand who gets it into his head that he can outsmart his station and take to the skies in a contraption of his own design.” He turned to gently place a hand on the frame of the glider behind him. He ran a thumb over a joint in the wood, an almost affectionate gesture. “He takes to the sky, only to fall right back out of it. The flying machine crashes to the ground, proof that was he was crazy for the attempt.” He shook his head disapprovingly, reciting:  “‘ _I just have room for the moral here…’_ ” 

“‘... _and this is the moral, stick to your sphere.’_ ” Lucy finished, remembering the final line. 

“Ah,” said Wilbur softly. “So you have heard it.” Lucy nodded. 

Wilbur dropped his hand from the glider and, with a lighter air, pocketed his notebook. “It’s not a terrible moral, you know.” Wilbur admitted. “‘ _Stick to your sphere,_ ’ if you’re content with what’s in it.” He nodded in the direction of the Kill Devil Hills to the north, and the fishing village beyond them. “Take the Kittyhawkers, for example. Nice folks, all of the them. But many of them have never been more than a few mile beyond their little world there,” he said pragmatically. “They don’t care for thoughts of flight or fancy. As a matter of fact, they don’t much care for the birds, either.” He turned one last time to the seagulls, still in the air as though suspended in time. “They’re just small minded people from a small town, content to live and end their small lives rooted to the ground. They’re more than happy believing that _that_ is what God has intended.” 

“What about you?” Lucy asked, studying his face. “What do you believe?”

Wilbur turned to face her, a slow smile stretching across his face, and patted the wing of his glider with pride. “I don’t presume to know what God has planned for anyone, Miss Lucy… but I do believe that I intend to fly.”

 

* * *

 

A dozen paces away, Wyatt suddenly registered Lucy’s absence and stiffened. Her jerked his head and immediately found her over Rufus’ shoulder with Wilbur. His heartbeat slowed, seeing she was safe. Lucy’s back was turned to him, but he had a clear view of Wilbur, who was smiling down at her in an irritatingly familiar way. Wyatt couldn’t help but huff in annoyance, causing Rufus to glance at him questioningly.

To Wyatt’s chagrin, Rufus raised an eyebrow and followed his line of sight.  Amused comprehension dawned on his face and he chuckled, shaking his head at the sight of the captivated Wright brother. “We really can’t take her anywhere, can we?” 

Wyatt scowled. “You’d think she was only the woman in North Carolina,” he grumbled.

 

* * *

 

The Wright brothers’ camp consisted of a small mess-shack, a large sleeping tent, and a hangar for storing the glider. Apparently, it was George and Ed’s turn to set up for lunch. In what Lucy strongly suspected was a normal scenario for the two, George ended up doing most of the work while Ed supervised and packed his cheek with chewing tobacco. Wilbur and Orville picked up the extra slack, and soon they were all gathered around the open face of the shack eating biscuits and beans.

“So, Logan, “ Ed addressed Wyatt, chewing his food with his mouth open. “What do you do back in Virginia?”

“I’m a soldier.” Wyatt always thought it was better to stick as close to the truth as possible. It was much harder to get caught in a lie that way. All you had to do was leave out the inconvenient parts.

“Must not be good enough to be serving abroad then, eh?” Ed chortled, looking him over appraisingly. Wilbur’s usually reserved demeanor couldn’t mask the flash of irritation in his eyes, and Orville exclaimed, “Really, Ed!”

Wyatt just smiled amicably and shrugged. “Guess not.”

John Daniels was still paying Lucy a fair amount of attention, and had situated himself at her side. “What about you, Miss Logan? What do you do to keep yourself occupied?”

Lucy stammered, unsure of what she should say. Unlike Wyatt, improvising false information was not her strong suit.

“She’s a history professor,” Rufus interjected helpfully between hungry bites of beans. Lucy shot him an admonishing look and he froze, biscuit halfway to his mouth. “What?”

The men all stared at her, mouths slightly agape with varying looks of amazement and disbelief. It was the exact reaction that Lucy had been hoping to avoid. There weren’t exactly an abundance of female professors in the world at this time. “Yep,” she confirmed weakly, sipping her coffee for something to do.

“You mean you’re a schoolteacher,” said William Tate, with the air of someone clearing up a misunderstanding. Lucy’s cheeks flushed at his patronizing tone.

“No, actually,” insisted Wyatt, “She’s not. She’s a professor of American history.”

“A damn good one,” Rufus added.

There was a moment of astonished silence before Wilbur said calmly, “You know, I rather enjoy history. Do you have a specific area of interest, Miss Lucy?” With that, the tension was broken and the conversation resumed.  

Lucy smiled gratefully at Rufus and Wyatt. They tipped their hats in unison and her heart swelled.

 

* * *

 

After lunch, Tate excused himself to return to his duties back in Kitty Hawk, and took the gaggle of children with him. It was apparent that Wilbur and Orville were anxious to return to work as well 

“...and perhaps we can tighten the wires a bit by then as well,” said Orville, rising to his feet.

Wilbur nodded his agreement. “Yes, let’s get to it, then.” He turned apologetically to their three guests. “Pardon us. If you’ll stay a while, we do hope to be back in the air again very soon. I’m rather intrigued to hear more of your opinions on the Smeaton coefficient,  Mr. Carlin.”

“Of course!” said Rufus, straightening in excitement. As soon as the Wrights were gone, Lucy raised an eyebrow at Rufus in warning. He responded with a placating nod and a conceding but good-natured roll of his eyes.

George glanced between them curiously, clearly wondering what secret conversation he was missing out on. 

“So,” said Wyatt loudly, trying to divert attention from Lucy and Rufus, “How do you two factor into this whole operation?” he asked, gesturing to George and Ed.

“Oh, we work with Octave from time to time.” answered Ed, chewing a new round of tobacco. “He’s been building flying machines longer than all of us. He met with Wilbur and Orville- what was it George, last spring sometime?-  and he suggested we come and help out. He should be passing through here any day now, actually, to see how things are going.”

If Lucy had been a dog, her ears would have perked up. “Octave? Octave Chanute?”

George looked impressed. “You’ve heard of him?”

“I’m familiar with his work,” said Lucy, urgently turning back to Ed. “He’s coming here?”

“‘Familiar with his work?” Ed gawked a her as though she were an exotic animal that he didn’t know the name of. “You really are smart for a woman, aren’t you?”

“I’d like to think I’m just smart, thank you.” Lucy said coolly. Wyatt and Rufus hid their smirks in their coffee cups.

“Hmph.” Ed shifted uncomfortably on his seat, an upended wooden crate. “Well, Chanute should actually be here in the next few days. He’s stopping through to see Wilbur and Orville demonstrate the glider. It could be big for them.”

“Not the way you hear them tell it,” said George offhandedly. “They’re completely unconcerned with what he thinks,” he explained to Lucy.

“Well, maybe they should be,” Ed argued. “Gettin’ someone like him in their corner wouldn’t hurt ‘em at all.”

“Nah, they don’t think they need anybody but themselves.” George turned to the trio. “Did you folks know that they run all this on the money from their bicycle shop back in Ohio?”

“It looks like they’ve been doing just fine on their own,” observed Wyatt, looking out to where the brothers were fiddling with the wires on the glider.

Ed shook his head. “Naw, that money ain’t going to keep ‘em long enough to make nothin’ work. Bicycles are just a passing fad.”

George pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. “Ed, it’s about time we get back to work now, too.”

“Right you are. You men comin’?” Ed asked, looking pointedly over the top of Lucy’s head to address Wyatt and Rufus.

“You go ahead” Wyatt said, rising from his seat. “We’ll take care of the cleanup.”

“Much obliged.” George thanked him. Ed was already walking away, glad to be off the hook for cleaning duty.

Rufus glowered after them, waiting until they were both out of earshot to mumble, “Seven years, seven days.”

Wyatt eyed Rufus warily, leaning away. “Did… did you just put a curse on them?”

“That’s how long it’ll be before those chuckle-heads eat their words.” Rufus explained, nodding in the direction of the engineers. “ August 8, 1908 is when the Wrights show their working flyer to the public for the first time.” He paused, contemplating. “So… yeah. Maybe I did just a put a curse on them?”

Lucy rolled her eyes and stood up. “Guys, concentrate. I might know why Flynn is here.” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t being overheard, and Wyatt and Rufus leaned in. “He’s trying to tank the project before Octave Chanute can see the Wright’s progress.” 

Wyatt tilted his head, standing up straight again. “I’m sorry, I’m lost. Who are we talking about?”

Lucy sighed impatiently. “Octave Chanute. He’s a mentor and friend to many of the prominent aviation pioneers of this time, and he’s eventually a great supporter of Wilbur and Orville. He’s the Wright’s first major connection to the aviation community, and until now they’ve mainly corresponded long-distance. Despite their failures, Chanute sees a lot of potential in their glider, and even invites them to give a lecture to the Western Society of Engineers.”

“But those guys said that the Wrights didn’t even care about this Chanute guy.” Wyatt said skeptically. “It doesn’t even sound like they want his help.”

“They might be fine without him,” Lucy admitted, “But do we really want to take that chance?” Wyatt and Rufus still looked unconvinced, and Lucy stubbornly put her hands on her hips. “Wilbur and Orville aren’t celebrities yet,” she reminded them. “They’re out here doing this all on their own, with their own money. They have no financial backers, no pre-existing claim to fame. No one is watching them and hoping they’ll succeed.”

Wyatt was starting to come around.“So without this guy’s support...”

“It’s possible that the Wright brothers get lost in the rat race for first flight.” Rufus finished.

Wyatt nodded, resolved. “You’re right, Lucy. We can’t take that chance.”

 

* * *

  

They spent the rest of the daylight hours observing and assisting the Wrights, but were unsuccessful in finding any signs of impending trouble. They stalled their departure until the sun hung low over the horizon, the lack of light providing them the perfect excuse to stay at the camp overnight.  Luckily for them, the Wrights wouldn’t hear of them making the long hike back to Kitty Hawk in the dark, and obligingly lent them their only remaining tent and as many blankets as they could spare.

When darkness had completely fallen, the men built a fire in the shelter of the hangar where the glider was stowed safely for the night. As the hour grew later, they excused themselves to bed, one by one. Wilbur and Orville retired to their hammocks in the upper loft of the shed, while Ed and George disappeared into the large tent. Finally, only Wyatt, Rufus, and Lucy remained.

The popping embers of the dying fire burnt low, leaving the full moon hanging on the horizon as their strongest source of light. Rufus leaned forward to stoke the glowing coals with a stick, soulfully humming ‘ _I believe I can fly.’_

“You’re in a good mood,” Lucy observed with an amused smile, rubbing her arms for warmth. Wyatt reached behind him and grabbed a blanket from the pile Orville had provided. He leaned over Lucy and helpfully draped it over her small shoulders.

“I just spent the day living the art of aerodynamics with the Wright brothers,” bragged Rufus. “Whatever it is Flynn’s up to, no one can take that away from me.”

Wyatt glanced around to make sure everyone had actually gone to bed. He leaned toward Rufus and Lucy and kept his voice low. “What _is_ Flynn up to? Why does he have it in for the Wright Brothers? What’s his end-game?” 

Lucy wrapped the blanket more tightly around her shoulders, a shield against the cool night air. “Wilbur and Orville were the first men credited with accomplishing controlled flight,” She reviewed in a hushed tone. “No one in the world had really figured it out, or if they did, there wasn’t any proof. There were some competitors; Other Americans, the french… even now, Brazil swears their guy did it first, but it’s still the Wrights who get the credit.”

Wyatt waved the information away impatiently. “Okay, yeah, I got that, but _what does he want_? You said yourself that the Wrights are small-town nobodies, so they’re probably not Rittenhouse.”

“He’s trying to stop flight,” Rufus offered.

“But _why_ ?” asked Wyatt firmly. “And if there are so many other guys working on this, then what’s the point? Someone is going to get the hang of it eventually.” 

“Maybe that is the point,” mused Lucy. “There’s an engineer in Germany who claimed to have flown around the same time, but in the Wright brother’s shadow he was never very successful. If the Germans perfect the airplane before anyone else, they could monopolize the aeronautic industry. Planes were pivotal in the turnout of World War One. It’s not even fifteen years away. The war could take a very different turn.”

“Besides that, America is the birthplace of flight,” said Rufus.. “It’s part of our national identity at this point. Sure, it starts with wires and two-by fours and bicycle chains, but it becomes NASA. It becomes rockets and satellites and the moon landing, and… and…” Rufus trailed off as the gears turned in his head, looking between his teammates as he completed the realization.  “...and time machines.”

They all looked at each other in silence.

“This whole time…” Lucy said slowly. “Flynn has been trying to stop the invention of time machines this whole time.”

“That’s why he tried to take out von Braun in Nazi Germany,” said Wyatt. “He starts the U.S. Rocket program.

“And if we hadn’t stopped Flynn from stranding the astronauts on the moon, that would have been the end of NASA.” said Rufus. “No way would the government fund them after that.”

“No flight, no rockets, no spaceships, no time machine,” confirmed Lucy.

Wyatt frowned. “What I can’t wrap my mind around is why he would do that. How does that benefit him? Is he trying to stop us from following him through time?”

Lucy dropped her head in her hands, kneading her eyes with her palms. “I don’t know,” she sighed wearily.” I just know that we can’t let him hurt Orville and Wilbur.”


	6. Chapter 6

Rufus suggested that they spend the night sleeping in shifts, in case Flynn and his men planned to attack under the cover of night. Lucy volunteered to take the first watch while Rufus slept, with the agreement that they would trade off partway through the night. Wyatt refused to let his guard down for long; instead, he napped in twenty-minute cycles, never reaching a deep slumber.

Their tent was pitched in the shelter of George and Ed’s quarters in an effort to keep the wind from blowing it off its wooden pegs. In comparison, the time-traveler’s tent was much smaller, barely large enough to fit the three of them. Lucy lay on her stomach, propped up on her elbows as she carefully watched the moon-lit camp from the open tent-flap. The patchwork canvas over her head shook and billowed in the night wind, creating a constant flapping racket. It was just as well that she had taken the first shift; she wouldn’t haven’t been able to fall asleep with all that noise. Rufus, however, seemed to have no issue with sleeping through relentless winds and the constant threat of danger. Separated from Lucy only by Wyatt’s dozing form, Rufus lay on his back, snoring peacefully.

Lucy peeked down at Wyatt, lying face-down beside her, his suit jacket rolled up into a makeshift pillow. His head rested on his folded arms, and the full moon illuminated the back of his blonde head in a soft blue light. His broad back rose and fell with long, even breaths. Lucy couldn’t explain it, but she found it comforting to watch.

“Hey, Wyatt?” She asked softly, after a brief hesitation.

“Hey, Lucy?” his muffled voice answered, his head shifting slightly.   


“You awake?”   


“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled. She could hear the smirk in his voice.

Lucy smiled wryly. “Just checking.”

Wyatt was silent for a moment before he turned his head and rested his his cheek on his arm to look up at her, his blue eyes adjusting to her face in the moonlight. “Are you still freaking out?” he asked casually.   


Lucy huffed indignantly. “I was not-”   


“You were kind of freaking out.” he interrupted.

She opened her mouth to argue, but found she had nothing to defend herself with. She closed it again and sighed curtly. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. “I think I’m okay now.”   


He gave a satisfied nod and closed his eyes. “What calmed you down?”   


“Wilbur…” Lucy thought she saw a twitch in the rise of Wyatt’s back. “...he and Orville…” Wyatt’s even breathing resumed. “...they’re out here in the middle of nowhere, alone, trying to do the impossible. Everyone thinks they’re insane. Not because they know what’s involved, but because the idea of what they’re doing… it’s unheard of. It’s unprecedented.”   


“Sounds kinda familiar, doesn’t it?” said Wyatt, opening one eye. “Like what we’re trying to do here. Like what you’re trying to do for your sister.” He pushed himself up on one elbow and turned his body to face her. “You’re not crazy for trying, Luce, and you’re not alone. Just like Wilbur and Orville aren’t alone. They’ve got people out here who believe in them. They have each other… and you have us.”   


Lucy’s gaze traveled over Wyatt’s shoulder at Rufus, still sleeping peacefully, then back to Wyatt, his face half-illuminated by moonlight. Her support system.   


“And the Wrights don’t know if what they’re doing will work, either,” he continued. “or if it will pay off, or if anyone will remember them. They’re just doing it. Making it up as they go along. Together.”   


Lucy’s worried expression softened into a grateful smile. “Thanks, Wyatt.” Before she could say more, a massive wind burst through the open tent flap,  sending a spray of fine sand everywhere, including right in Wyatt’s face. He sputtered and dove to pull the flap down for protection against the gale. Lucy stifled a shriek and shielded her own face from the assaulting sting of sand. 

“God damn wind,” Wyatt cursed once the worst had passed. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “God damn sand.” He glanced over his shoulder to see if the commotion had woken Rufus, but he hadn’t moved an inch. “Should I be concerned that he slept through that?”

Lucy tried not giggle at the sight of Wyatt’s face covered in sand. “Here,” she grinned, instinctively reaching over to wipe it away. She gently swept the sand from his forehead before brushing more from his nose with her thumb.

Wyatt stiffened as Lucy’s fingertips grazed the side of his face. Her breath caught in her throat and she froze, mid-motion. Her palm was cradling his cheek, her thumb resting on his cheekbone. The rise and fall of Wyatt’s shoulders had stopped. The world was still. Even the incessant whistle of the wind faded away into nothingness. In the light of the moon Lucy could only make out half of Wyatt’s features. One intense blue eye bore into her, indecipherable. His breath was hot on the inside of her wrist, sending a shiver up her arm and down her spine. 

The moment was shattered by an impressively loud snore from the adjacent tent. They jumped apart like they had been electrocuted, and Lucy wasn’t so sure she hadn’t been. Wyatt inadvertently rolled backwards into Rufus, who jumped awake with “Wha-wha-what’s happening? Where’s the fire?”   


Lucy put a hand to her pounding heart to keep it from crashing through her rib cage. Wyatt swiped his large hand over his face, trying to rid himself of the rest of the cursed sand. He patted Rufus’s ankle, which was next to his head. “Nothin’ buddy,” he said hoarsely. “Go back to sleep.”   


“Nah, man, I’m up.” Rufus yawned and rubbed his eyes. “It’s gotta be my turn soon, right? I’ll get some water and be right back.”  He blearily rolled over and crawled out of the back of the tent, blissfully oblivious to the aura of split tension and abundance of sand covering his tent-mates.

Rufus stumbled to his feet in the soft sand, the wind immediately chilling him to his bones. “Jesus, isn’t it supposed to be August?” he grumbled, turning up his shirt collar to shield his neck. Trying not to get too much sand in his shoes, he made his way past the hangar to the shack, where he hoped there might be fresh water. What he found, instead, was Wilbur, awake at the table at the rear of the small building. Rufus tactfully announced his presence by clearing his throat.   


Wilbur started, but relaxed when he saw that it was Rufus. The flickering light of the oil lamp on the table threw harsh shadows on his face, making him look worn and aged.  “Oh, it’s you, Mr. Carlin. Is the wind keeping you up?’ he asked, weary but as polite as ever. “It’s a bit hard to get used to, I know. It’s why we built this.” He gestured at the space around him. There wasn’t much to the shack; three walls, a cast-iron stove, and pantry shelves stocked with provisions. A ladder led to the low rafters over their heads, where two cots were nestled out of the way.   


“Oh, no, I can sleep through just about anything,” Rufus shrugged. “Except for snoring, apparently.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the sleeping tent.   


“Yes, that would be Ed,” said Wilbur shortly. “As considerate of his fellow man when he’s asleep as when he’s awake.” He shook his head as though to shake away his obvious dislike of the man and smiled gently at Rufus. “You’ve just missed Orville. He stepped out to clear his head.” He gestured to a pot on the small iron stove in the corner. “I know it’s not conducive to sleep, but you’re welcome to help yourself to some coffee, if you’d like.”   


“I’d actually love some,” said Rufus gratefully. He pulled a tin mug from a hook on the wall and filled it just short of the brim. “You’re not tired at all, after a long day like that?” He asked, sitting on the stool across the table from Wilbur. “I feel like I could sleep for days.”   


Wilbur sighed and took a sip of his own coffee. “Some nights I cannot sleep no matter how long I try, and if I cannot get to sleep, I may as well get to thinking.” He raised his mug in explanation. “Coffee helps me think.” 

Rufus glanced down curiously at Wilbur’s notebook, lying open on the table. It was turned to pages full of equations, notes and diagrams. “What’s that you’re working on?” He asked, sounding excited in spite of himself.

Wilbur looked at the page scathingly. “We’re starting to believe we’ve been using the wrong variables in our equations. Perhaps even the wrong equations....” He sighed, exasperated, and flipped the notebook closed. 

Rufus already knew the answer to his next question, but he asked it anyway. “So, what will you do next?”   


Wilbur pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not actually sure,” he admitted.

Rufus sipped his coffee to hide his knowing smile. “Maybe you’ll just have to write some new equations.”

After Rufus exited the tent, Lucy quickly followed suit. The enclosed space felt too warm, too intimate. “I’m fine,” She insisted to an equally embarrassed Wyatt, face flushed. “I’m just... I’m going to go join Rufus. Get some water.” Then she was gone, a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Wyatt sighed and flopped back down onto his stomach, head in his arms.    


Free of the confines of the tent and close proximity to Wyatt, Lucy found it much easier to breathe. The wind whipped around her ears, pulling her wavy brown hair from of its loose pinning and sending it all about her face. Not wanting to trade one tent for another, she scrambled to take shelter from the unrelenting weather in the hangar. The glider, tucked away for the night and blocked from the harsh elements, was perfectly still. Lucy pushed her disheveled hair out of her eyes and sighed, relieved to be out of the wind. 

The sudden noise startled the man at the workbench on the other side of the hangar. “Miss Logan!” Orville exclaimed, rising from his stool. “Are you quite alright?”

“Orv- I mean- Mr. Wright. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.” Lucy breathlessly hurried to pushed her hair back into a less haphazard arrangement. “I only meant to get some air, but it was a little...”   


“Overwhelming?” he finished with a shy smile, more soft-spoken in the absence of his brother. “Yes, if there’s one thing Kitty Hawk has in spades, it’s air. It’s why we chose it.” 

Lucy awkwardly sidled around the glider to join Orville at his workbench. His corner of the hangar was illuminated by a single kerosene lantern. On the bench lay an odd little contraption, a pair of paper wings with a propeller attached at the top of a thin rod. “What’s that you’re working on?” she asked curiously.   


“This?” Orville twirled the narrow part between his thumb and forefingers. “‘Working’ maybe be a bit of an overstatement,” he said sheepishly. “It’s called a bat. It’s rather similar to a toy Wil and I had as boys, actually. See here, you wind the propeller up top, and then…” He let it go, giving it a slight toss upwards. It gently floated back down to the table, tipping over with a soft _ clink _ . “Like so.”    


“Have you and Wilbur always loved the idea of flying, then?” Lucy asked, enraptured. She already knew, of course, but hearing history from the horse's mouth always gave her such a thrill.   


Orville fiddled with the propeller on the toy. “Wilbur more so than I,” he admitted, “but we’ve always been very close, so I suppose the love of it must’ve rubbed off on me.” He smiled fondly. “We’ve become so similar that sometimes it’s hard, even for us, to know where one of us starts and the other begins.”   


“I know what you mean. My sister...” Lucy’s words suddenly failed her, her hand absently touching the locket that held the only remaining evidence of Amy. In so many ways, they were exact opposites, but she knew could always count on her sister to know her better than she knew herself.    


“You have a sister as well, then?” asked Orville. “In addition to your brother?”   


“Amy,” said Lucy, her heart aching over the word. “But she’s... um…” Lucy struggled for a good word. Gone? Vanished? Dead?   


The conflict on Lucy’s face must have told Orville all that he needed to know. He nodded somberly. “I see. I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely. “I can’t imagine…” he hesitated. “If something were ever to happen to Wil... I’m not sure how I’d find the strength to go on.”

A sharp pang struck Lucy so hard she actually flinched. Not for the first time since starting this job, she regretted her knowledge of what was to come.

“I’m so sorry,” Orville rushed to apologize, taking her reaction for one of her own personal grief. “I didn’t mean to…” He stopped short, flustered, before regaining his composure. “I’m very sorry, Miss Logan. Why don’t I see you back to your tent?”   


She hesitated, and considered declining.  In theory, it was foolish to pass on the opportunity to spend time with such an iconic figure of the history she loved so much. In reality, her heart was too exhausted with the hurt of lost siblings.“Yeah,” she finally sighed, shoulders falling. “Alright.”

She led the way out of the hangar into the frigid night air. The wind had not faltered in its ferocity, but Lucy was glad for the cleansing coolness of it. Although the moon had peaked in brightness, her eyes had become used to Orville’s lantern and required a moment to adjust.

When they did, her heart dropped through her stomach; she was face to face with the dark, towering figure of Garcia Flynn. His shoulders were hunched, hands on a sleek, black handgun. At their sudden appearance he tensed, taking aim with his firearm.

Instinctively, Lucy stepped in front of Orville, who was momentarily stunned by the sudden presence of a gun-wielding madman in his camp.

“Flynn,” she pleaded, taking a step back in an effort to shepherd Orville into the relative safety of the hangar. “You can’t do this.” She glanced desperately in the direction of the tent. The open flap revealed it to be agonizingly empty. Where in the hell was Wyatt? 

Flynn sighed impatiently. “Move, Lucy,” he ordered, his jaw working in frustration.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he took a threatening step forward, jerking the gun menacingly in her direction and making her flinch.

“Don’t say another word, Lucy,” he demanded, his eyes wild. “I don’t have time for your games tonight. Get out of my way.”

She shook her head defiantly and widened her stance, the blanket falling from her shoulders. She was trembling violently, and didn’t know whether to blame the icy chill of the wind or the barrel of the gun she was looking down.

Behind her, Orville had finally come to his senses. He put his own shaking hand on Lucy’s shoulder, slowly but firmly attempting to pull her behind him. “Sir,” he said carefully, unable to hide the waver in his voice.

“No funny business, Wright,” Flynn warned, whipping the gun in his direction. Lucy sidestepped him and remained a solid force between the two men.

“You won’t be changing anything.” Lucy took a step forward, lowering her voice so Orville couldn’t overhear. “This won’t do a thing to stop Rittenhouse,” she hissed. “You’re grasping at straws, Flynn. You have to know that.”  

His intensity faltered, and Lucy saw a split-second of doubt flicker in his eyes. As soon as it had surfaced, he smothered it, the muscles in his neck tensed with intense effort.. He glowered down at her, advancing menacingly, but she stood her ground. “Lucy, I swear to God I will shoot you.” he growled through gritted teeth, the gun pointed squarely at her chest. “Now move!”

“Sir,” interrupted a strong voice, loud enough to be heard over the pounding in Lucy’s ears. Wilbur Wright emerged from under the awning of the shack, a pistol aimed at Flynn.“I do not know who you are, but I suggest that you put down your weapon and step away.” A panicked Rufus stood behind Wilbur, unsure what to do.

_ ‘Where is Wyatt?’   _ Rufus mouthed desperately to Lucy, eyes wide in alarm. She could only shake her head helplessly.

Wilbur cocked the pistol threateningly. “It is impolite to point a gun at a lady,” he warned, stone-faced.

Flynn scoffed, keeping his gun on Lucy, the gun now inches from Lucy’s collarbone. “I think you might be outgunned, Mr. Wright,” he mocked. “You might as well be holding a pea-shooter.”

“He might be, but I’m not.” Wyatt stepped out from behind the hangar and trained his gun on Flynn. His bottom lip was split open, and he sported a nasty gash above his eyebrow. A trickle of blood trailed down his temple.

Flynn roughly seized Lucy’s upper arm, nearly lifting her off her feet. He pulled her hard against him, using her as a human shield. “Stop where you are! All of you!” He thrust the muzzle of the gun roughly against the back of Lucy’s head, just behind her ear. The blood drained from her face and she squeezed her eyes shut, her muscles rigid.

Flynn’s smug smile was gone.

“No one move an inch,” he demanded, his voice deathly calm. He dragged her with him as he backed away from the hangar, his eyes darting desperately between the four men surrounding him. Wilbur’s usually calm expression had been replaced with one of silent, seething rage. Neither he nor Wyatt had lowered their weapons, but neither dared to shoot. Rufus’s fists and jaw were clenched. Orville could only look on in horror.

Every muscle in Wyatt’s body was tensed in an immobilizing combination of anger and fear. With difficulty, he swallowed the feeling and pushed it aside. He had to think, had to act, had to save Lucy. In the dark, with only the light of the damn moon, he couldn’t get a clear shot in without risking her getting caught in the crossfire. He’d have to talk his way out of this one. 

“Your other man isn’t coming, Flynn.”  Wyatt called to him, taking immense satisfaction from the twitch of Flynn’s eye. “Poor guy is going to wake up with one hell of a headache. Put up a good fight, though.” He cockily raised one eyebrow, showcasing the gash above it.  “You’re outnumbered.”

Flynn scowled at him, his grip on Lucy’s arm tightening painfully. She winced, shuddering as he pressed the gun harder against her head. “Fine then,” he said eventually, deliberately. “Have it your way.” 

Without warning, he jerked his gun from Lucy’s head and shot several rounds into a barrel nestled between the hangar and the shack labeled “kerosene.” It went up in a burst of flames, forcing Orville to dive out of the way with his hands over his head.

Flynn roughly shoved Lucy in Wyatt’s direction, forcing him to abandon his aim to catch her as she tumbled headlong into his arms. 

As Flynn fled, he twisted around to fire several more wild bullets to cover his haphazard exit. Orville and Rufus hit the deck, while Wyatt pulled Lucy to the ground and leaned over her, shielding her with his body. When the shots subsided, he raised his gun to fire at the retreating Flynn, only to find Wilbur in close pursuit.  “Damn it,” he cursed. He turned back to the shell-shocked Lucy, squeezing her shoulder. “Are you okay?” She nodded, dazed.

“Guys!” Rufus shouted, distraught. Lucy and Wyatt’s head jerked up in unison. “Fire!”

“Fire! Fire!” Roused by the sound of the explosion, gunshots, and now roaring flames, Ed and George emerged from their tent. Ed was still in his long underwear, but George had had the presence of mind to pull on his trousers, held on by only one suspender. 

“The glider!” Orville cried in distress. “We have to save the glider!” The explosion had fire to both the hangar and the Wright’s shack. Cheaply built and dried from the constant wind, they were burning like matchbooks as Ed and George hastily joined Orville in rushing into the hanger to rescue the flying machine from the flames. 

Lucy clutched Wyatt’s arm, panicked. “Wyatt, you have to go after Flynn. Don’t let him shoot Wilbur!”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. “Got it.” Without another word he sprinted in the direction Flynn and Wilbur had run.

Lucy staggered to her feet, wildly searching for Rufus. She didn’t have to look far. He stumbled toward her across the sand and threw his arms around her, his heart pounding. “Jesus, Lucy, are you okay?” She nodded weakly and he sighed in relief, giving her a soft push toward the darkness. “Go help Wyatt! I have to save their notes!”

“Be careful!” Lucy called after him as they split up. Lucy picked up her skirts and ran into the unknown after the three men, while Rufus covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief and ran into the flaming shack.

The flames had spread to the rafters, and had overtaken most of the roof. “Shit, shit, shit,” Rufus cursed, grabbing Wilbur’s notebook off the table. He tucked it under his arm and ran to the desk in the back. He hastily collected rolls of blueprints, a few more notebooks and a stack of what he thought might be important documents. He wasn’t anywhere near satisfied with his haul, but the wood was burning fast. He was running out of time. He cast one final desperate glance around, his eyes widening when a dark box sitting under the table caught his eye. He quickly shifted his armload and abandoned the handkerchief over his mouth, pulling Wilbur’s camera box away from the encroaching fire.

Feet away, a ceiling beam crashed from the rafters, scattering hot ashes over his feet.  “Time to go,” he muttered, tucking the documents against his chest to protect them from the swirling embers. 

The searing heat burned his lungs as he helplessly scoured the blaze for an escape route.  Another thunderous crash descended on his right; if he didn’t get out of there now, the ceiling was going to come down on his head. Coughing violently, he hunched over Wilbur’s camera, picked a direction, and charged blindly into the roaring flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual thanks to Timeless-librarian on tumblr for beta!
> 
> I usually update weekly on Monday nights, but I'm working on a few different projects, so I'm taking a teeny tiny hiatus from the Wright brothers. The next (and last??) chapter is not coming next week, but on July 10th.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

The ground was wet and marshy under Wyatt’s feet as he sprinted into the woods, his gun still drawn. In the bright moonlight filtering through the branches, he skillfully maneuvered around half-submerged tree roots and dips in the terrain, ignoring the cold water seeping into his leather shoes.

A hundred feet head, the shadow of Garcia Flynn bobbed and weaved through the foliage, growing fainter in the dark. The sandy wetland and crowding trees hadn’t hindered his escape, but it hadn’t slowed Wilbur either. To Wyatt’s surprise, the Wright brother had managed to keep up with the fleeing gunman, although he’d begun to stumble over the coiling root-system at his feet.

Cursing at his lost momentum, Wilbur took aim and fired several more shots from his pistol. The bullets missed their mark once, twice, three times, cracking loudly as they hit the surrounding tree trunks. Wyatt raised his own weapon, but hesitate to shoot; he didn’t even want to imagine the heat he’d get from Lucy if he accidentally shot Wilbur-freaking-Wright.

The shroud of darkness lifted as they burst into a small clearing, empty save for a few stray fireflies. The insects dispersed as Wilbur stumbled through them, frantically searching the trees for Flynn. Wyatt kept his guard up, stealthily circling the edge of the open space with his gun at the ready. He listened carefully, trying to discern the sound of movement through the thick buzz of mosquitoes in the air.

In the center of the clearing, Wilbur gave in to his exhaustion and doubled over, panting heavily and resting his hands on his knees. “Who... was… that… man…” he asked between gasps, his voice hoarse.

Wyatt didn’t answer. Every fiber of his being was concentrated on detecting any presence in the surrounding woods. The full moon was falling lower towards the horizon, and provided him with less light by the minute.

“Mr… Logan…” Wilbur insisted, attempting to straighten himself up.

“His name is Garcia Flynn,” Wyatt snapped, not tearing his eyes away from the shadows. “He’s hell-bent on keeping you and brother from flying, he’s armed, and he might not be alone. So with all due respect, I’m gonna need you to shut up a minute.”

Before Wilbur could comply, someone crashed haphazardly out of the bushes behind them. Alarmed, they both spun around and trained their guns on a disheveled, wide-eyed Lucy. The blood drained from her face as she threw her hands up, partly in defense, partly in surrender.

“Woah!” She cried. Her hands reflexively moved to shield her face as she shrank away from the potential friendly fire.

Wyatt and Wilbur quickly lowered their guns, emitting sharp sighs of relief. “Jesus, Lucy!” Wyatt hissed, his heart in his throat. He crossed the short distance between them, scanning the trees to ensure her racket hadn’t attracted unwanted attention. “Are you _trying_ to get shot?” Wyatt looked over Lucy’s shoulder, half-expecting the last third of their team to come barreling through the brush after her. “Where’s Rufus?”

“He’s back at the camp,” Lucy answered breathlessly, swaying where she stood. Wyatt put out a hand to support her, but she waved him off. “Where’s Flynn?” she asked urgently.

“I think we lost him,” Wyatt sighed, scowling at the surrounding trees. He was sure that, somewhere among them Flynn was firing up the Mothership. “He’s long gone.”

They heard a sharp metallic _click_ , followed by the long spin of a pistol chamber. Wyatt and Lucy looked up sharply to see Wilbur checking the ammunition in his gun. His shoulders heaved with labored breath, but he stood tall with resolve. “No,” Wilbur said adamantly. He clicked the chamber back into place, and the sound made Lucy flinch. “He can’t have made it far, not on foot.” Wilbur’s face was pale in the fading moonlight, his forehead shining with sweat.

Wyatt holstered his own weapon and took a step towards him. “Wilbur, he’s gone,” Wyatt said carefully, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. Wilbur motioned to jerk free, but Wyatt only tightened his grip. His icy blue eyes bore into Wilbur’s cloudy ones. “He’s gone, Wyatt repeated firmly. “Getting farther every second.”

“We can’t just let him go,” Wilbur seethed. “You saw what he did. What he was going to do. ” He finally shrugged Wyatt’s hand off and shoved forward so that they were almost nose-to-nose. “You would let that man burn my work to the ground and walk away? You would let evil loose on the world like that?” he asked fiercely. “You would let a man like that put a gun to Lucy’s head and walk away?”

“Look, I understand,” said Wyatt evenly, not breaking his gaze. “You’re angry. Angrier than you’ve ever been. He threatened everything you’ve worked for, everything you love... but he’s gone now. You don’t even know which way he went.” He nodded to the pistol in Wilbur’s white-knuckled hand. “And by my count, there’s not a damn bullet left in that gun of yours, anyway.” A twitch in Wilbur’s eye told him he was right. “Don’t let him get what he wanted, Wilbur,” Wyatt said softly. “Live to fight another day.”

Wilbur narrowed his eyes, stormy and conflicted. After a long moment of tense silence, he sighed, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. He nodded wordlessly, the gun held limply at his side.

“Good man,” said Wyatt, clapping him on the back. He looked back at Lucy, who smiled gratefully at him,  looking small and tired in the fading moonlight. Wyatt suppressed his own swell of rage at the jarring memory of Flynn’s gun to Lucy’s skull, the wide-eyed panic in her eyes, the sickening twist of fear in his heart when the gun went off. He took a deep breath to quell the boiling in his blood, reminding himself to heed his own advice.

 

* * *

 

 

Dawn had just begun to break as the three of them returned, breathless, crestfallen, and muddy. The rising sun threw muted light upon the remnants of the Wright camp, bathing the wreckage in a golden glow. The entirety of the brothers’ shack and the better part of the hangar had been burnt to the ground, and the remaining embers smoldered weakly in damp sandy heaps.

George Spratt, haphazardly dressed and black with soot, sifted tentatively through the wreckage for anything worth saving. Ed Huffaker was no less disheveled, but significantly less dirty. True to form, he supervised George at a distance, a lit cigarette hanging lazily from the corner of his mouth. Nearby, Orville and Rufus hovered over the miraculously pristine frame of the rescued Wright glider, inspecting it for damage in the growing sunlight.

Ed was the first to notice their return; he looked up from a long drag on his cigarette, nearly dropping it in surprise. “They’re back!” he called, his booming voice carrying over the burnt debris. “They’re all right!”

Rufus and Orville looked up sharply, their chests falling in identical relief. Orville kicked up sand as ran to meet his brother, Rufus following close behind.

“Wil!” Orville grabbed Wilbur by the shoulders with shaking hands pulling him close.

“You’re okay!” Rufus exclaimed, joining his teammates. “What happened? Where’s Flynn?”

Wyatt shook his head, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone. “He got away. He’s a hundred years away, by now.”

Orville held Wilbur at arm’s length, his face was creased with deep lines of worry. “What on earth were you thinking, running after a madman like that?” he demanded. “You could have been killed!”

“I’m sorry, Orv,” Wilbur said softly, his eyes falling remorsefully to the ground. “I… Something in me just snapped…”

Orville’s anger melted, and he sighed. “It’s all right Wil,” Orville reassured him. “Everything is all right.” and Wilbur raised his eyes to stare at him incredulously.

“All right?” he asked, gazing around in dismay at the remains of their leveled camp. He gestured at the rubble, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. “What about this is all right? We’ve lost everything! Our notes! My camera! We’ll have to- Orville, what in the devil are you smiling about?”

Orville made no attempt to hide the slow grin spreading across his face. “Not everything,” he corrected, stepping aside to reveal the pile of blueprints and notebooks lying in the sand beside the intact glider. The paper rustled in the breeze, held down by the weight of Wilbur’s camera box.

Wilbur jaw dropped. “How…?”

Rufus cleared his throat, modestly raising a sooty hand.

“We owe our friend Rufus an enormous debt, Wil.” Orville smiled at Wyatt and Lucy appreciatively, his grip tightening on his brother’s shoulder. “We owe all of you.”

Wilbur looked between his life’s work and Rufus, at a lost for words. “I… Mr. Carlin... Rufus. I don’t know how we could ever thank you…”

“I do,” said Rufus. He pulled Wilbur's field notebook out of his pocket and handed it over with smile. “Live to write those new equations.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re sure you have to leave so soon?” Wilbur asked, shaking Wyatt’s hand farewell. “You don’t have time to rest, after such an ordeal?” The trio was sandy, singed, and covered in mud, and in the unforgiving light of the fully risen sun they looked more rag-tag than ever.

“‘Fraid not,” apologized Wyatt, surprised to find that he was actually sad to leave. He’d been anxious to follow Flynn back to the present, but he’d grown fond of the Wright brothers. “We have to get back to, uh…”

“D.C,” Rufus offered hastily. “We’re really sorry we can’t stay,” he said to the brothers, guiltily eyeing the burnt skeleton frame of the shack. “I know you have a lot of work ahead of you, to rebuild the camp.”

“Think nothing of it, my friend,” Orville insisted, waving the notion away. “You’ve done more than enough for us. We can manage a bit of clean-up.” The corners of his mustache turned up in a hopeful smile. “But do promise us that you’ll visit us again next summer, if you can.”

“We’ll be here, God willing,” said Wilbur, gesturing to the Kill Devil Hills.

Rufus and Lucy exchanged a knowing smile. “I know you will,” said Rufus.

“And if you should ever happen to find yourself in Ohio,” Wilbur said softly, as an aside to Lucy, “we do hope you’ll come and visit us at our home in Dayton. I’m sure our sister Katherine would love to meet you, Miss Lucy. She’s a teacher too, you know.” He looked at her fondly. “You two are a lot alike. You’d be fast friends. And…” he coughed nervously, turning red around the ears. “I would like very much to see you again, as well.”

Lucy smiled up at him and quirked an eyebrow. ‘We’ll have to see which way the wind blows,” she said, holding out her hand.

Wilbur shook his head, but he was stifling a smile. "Yes," he said, taking her hand and holding it tightly it in both of his. “We shall.”

 

* * *

 

  
  
Rufus paused when they reached the top of the dunes, taking a moment to look down at the black smudge that used to be the Wright brothers’ camp. It was hard for him to reconcile that, less than a day ago, the place had been bustling with life and potential. Now the glider was grounded, and no one could know for sure if it would ever fly again.

“They’ll be okay,” Wyatt said confidently , as if he could read Rufus’ mind.

“We won’t know for sure until we get back,” Lucy reminded him with a frown, “but I think so, too. They have their research, and they have each other.” Her face softened as she glanced up at Wyatt, the corners of her lips turning upwards “They’ll make up the rest as they go along.”

Wyatt smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “So, where do they go from here, Lucy?” Wyatt asked, nodding at the camp below. “If everything happens like it should?”

“It was a hard road for them, even without a setback like this.” She turned her eyes back down the hill, where they could see the men sorting through the ashes. “Even if they make the flight, it doesn’t mean that everyone will believe them. They’ll have to fight tooth and nail to claim the credit, especially after Wilbur dies in 1912 and Orville has to do it on his own.”

“1912?” Wyatt asked, taken aback. He looked to Rufus for confirmation, nodded sadly. “But he’s so young!”

“You’re never too young to die of Typhoid,” said Lucy regretfully. “Orville will outlive him by thirty-five years, long enough to see airplanes used by Lindbergh, Earhart, and in both world wars.”

“Will he regret it?” Wyatt asked.

Lucy shook her head. “No. He’ll hate the way that people use them for destruction, but in the end he really believes that he and Wilbur have done something to unite the world.”

Rufus turned away from the Wrights’ uncertain future. “Let’s go home and see if he’s right.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jiya slumped over her desk, chin in hand, and stared blankly at her computer screen. It was too hard to concentrate on work, especially when she knew she could be practicing her piloting skills in the simulator. She absently poked at the propeller on the paperweight airplane on her desk. She flicked it with her finger so that it spun with a satisfying _whrrrr._ She lazily dropped her hand back to the computer mouse, but the propeller continue to spin. The papers beneath the weight’s base rustled, straining against a sudden, inexplicable draft.

Jiya’s heart skipped a beat, and she jumped to her feet as the Lifeboat materialized before her eyes.  The warehouse was suddenly alive with movement as everyone took their positions. Agent Christopher and Connor Mason hurried to the platform as the door slid open and their team tumbled out, exhausted and coated in sand. At the very least, they were all in once piece.

Wyatt was the first one out, and he immediately turned to help Lucy out of the hatch. “Who was the first to fly a heavier-than-air, man controlled aircraft?” Lucy called before her feet even touched the ground. She impatiently pulled the pins from her hair. Behind her, Rufus was already taking off his hot wool suit jacket, and Wyatt had begun undoing his tie.

Jiya dropped back into her chair, typing at lightning speed, but it was Mason who answered first.

“Orville and Wilbur Wright. December 12th, 1903.”

“My _boys_ !” Rufus hooted in victory, pumping a fist in the air. “Take _that,_ Flynn!”

“And their first public demonstration?” Lucy asked, not yet satisfied. The team made their way up the platform, shedding layers of Edwardian clothing and dropping sand everywhere.

“August 8th, 1908,” Jiya confirmed, reading from her computer.

Agent Christopher raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Does that sound accurate to you, Lucy?”

Lucy smiled, sighing and tilting her head back in relief. “Exactly like it should,” she said. She shook the sand out of her hair, and Mason grimaced, displeased to see his lab contaminated by the fine material.

“And Flynn,” Agent Christopher pressed, looking between them for more answers. “Did he escape _again_?”

Wyatt passed his hat off to one of the many workers bustling about. “Yes ma’am, but we did stop him from putting a couple of bullets in a couple of American heroes.”

“And _literally_ burning their legacy to the ground,” Rufus chimed in, pulling his pockets inside out to dispense of the sand that had been weighing him down.

“Then I’d say the mission was successful enough,” Mason interrupted, his hackles raised, “so could you PLEASE stop throwing all of the sand in North Carolina around my pristine lab?” He grabbed Wyatt’s wrist to as he reached up to ruffle the sand out of his hair.

Agent Christopher suppressed a smirk and waved her team toward the wardrobe dock. “Go change and clean up, all three of you. Then we can debrief you and let you go home.”

“Before you do,” Jiya piped up, “you guys might wanna see this.”

“And what is this?” Rufus asked, pulling up a rolling chair to sit beside her while Lucy and Wyatt looked over their shoulders.

“It’s a picture taken at the Wright brothers camp,” Jiya told him eagerly , enlarging the photo.

Lucy shook her head. “No it’s not. I’ve never seen this photo before.”

Jiya twisted to look up at Lucy, her eyes twinkling in poorly-masked delight. “Look a little closer.”“Hold on,” Rufus said in awed disbelief. “That’s us! Look!”

Wyatt squinted at the caption, reading out loud: “Photo displayed at the Kitty Hawk Air Museum, taken August 1st 1901, before the infamous Wright fire.” He glanced at Lucy in amazement. “That wasn’t a thing before yesterday, was it?”

She shook her head dumbly, her brown eyes wide.

“Left to Right,” Rufus read, picking up where Wyatt left off. “Wilbur Wright, Professor Lucy Logan, Orville Wright, Engineer Rufus Carlin, Soldier Wyatt Logan, and aviation pioneers Edward Huffaker and George Alexander Spratt. Photo by John T. Daniels…” he trailed off, mouth agape.

Lucy leaned forward to study the picture. The black and white photo was blurry around the edges, and one of the lower corners had a sizable tear, but the subjects were breathtakingly clear. A small group of people gathered around the grounded Wright glider, smiling and talking animatedly. On the right-hand side of the photo, Orville’s hand was on Rufus’ shoulder while Wyatt spoke to to Ed and George, whose backs were to the camera. On the left side of the photo, near the other wing of the glider, was Wilbur, notebook in hand; he grinned down at Lucy, who held her hat tightly to her chest and smiled back up at him.

“Can you guys go anywhere without leaving a footprint?” Jiya teased, breaking the awed silence.

Wyatt said proudly placed each of his hands on Rufus and Lucy’s shoulders. “Guess not.”

 

* * *

 

 

Rufus, Wyatt, and Lucy were finally released from Mason Industries into the cool night air. Rufus sighed and zipped up his hoodie, grateful for the light breeze. He did not miss the unforgiving winds of Kitty Hawk. “I don’t know about you guys, but I could go for a drink,” he announced, “and ten hours of undisturbed sleep.”

“I’m in,” said Wyatt. He raised a playful eyebrow at Lucy. “What do you say, _Miss Lucy_?” he teased. “You up for a drink?”

Lucy didn’t answer. She gazed into the middle-distance, her eyes unfocused in faraway thought

Wyatt nudged her softly with his elbow.“Lucy?”

Lucy blinked, startled out of her reverie. “Sorry, what?”

“Where’d you go?” asked Rufus.

Lucy shrugged and shook her head. “Nowhere,” she deflect. “It’s nothing.”

Rufus shook his head; he could see right through her. “Cheer up, Luce! We did it! They turned out fine!”

Lucy frowned, unconvinced. “Sure, they’re fine now, but what if Flynn tries to go back and finish the job?” she asked, a hand on her hip. “There’s still two more years for something to go wrong. What if tries to stop them in 1902, or 1903, or even 1908?”

“Then we’ll be there,” Wyatt said simply, as though the answer were obvious.

“And we’ll stop him,” Rufus promised.

“Together,” Wyatt finished. He held out his hand for her to to take. “Come on,” he urged. “You deserve a drink.”

Lucy sighed, but smiled wryly as she took Wyatt’s hand, letting him pull her forward. She grabbed Rufus’ arm with her free hand, dragging him along for the ride.

“Okay, but you’re buying.”

 

* * *

 

> _"We dared to hope we had invented something that would bring lasting peace to the earth. But we were wrong ... No, I don't have any regrets about my part in the invention of the airplane, though no one could deplore more than I do the destruction it has caused. I feel about the airplane much the same as I do in regard to fire. That is, I regret all the terrible damage caused by fire, but I think it is good for the human race that someone discovered how to start fires and that we have learned how to put fire to thousands of important uses."_ -Orville Wright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for staying with me until the end, guys. Hope to put out more stories soon!
> 
> Usual Thanks to beta-angel, timeless-library on tumblr


	8. Bibliography

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case anyone was wondering how much research I did, or wanted to read more!

> Works Referenced
> 
> "The 1901 Wright Glider."  _ 1901 Wright Glider _ . Wright-Brothers.org, n.d. Web. <<http://www.wright-brothers.org/Adventure_Wing/Hangar/1901_Glider/1901_Glider.htm>>.  **Excellent source on the glider, including a ton of photos of replicas.**
> 
> Alan Gevenison. "Kitty Hawk During the Time of the Wright Brothers."  _ Teachinghistory.org _ . Teachinghistory.org, n.d. Web. <<http://teachinghistory.org/history-content/ask-a-historian/20402>>.
> 
> McCullough, David G.  _ The Wright Brothers _ . New York: Simon & Schuster, 2016. Print. **I read a book for this story, guys! Of all my sources, this is the one I recommend the most highly. Read it!**
> 
> Stimson, Richard, Ph.D.  _ The Wright Stories _ . N.p., n.d. Web. <<http://wrightstories.com/>>. **I mostly used this website for insight on how the wrights interacted with Ed Huffaker and George Spratt. Well written, highly recommended.**
> 
> Wilson, Tracy V., and Holly Frey. "The Wright Brothers: An Interview with David McCullough." Audio blog post.  _ Stuff You Missed in History Class _ . HowStuffWorks, n.d. Web. <<http://www.missedinhistory.com/podcasts/the-wright-brothers-an-interview-with-david-mccullough.htm>>.
> 
> "Wright Brothers National Memorial."  _ Wright Brothers Camp _ . Nation Park Service, n.d. Web. <<https://www.nps.gov/places/wrightcamp.htm>>.
> 
> "The Wright Brothers: The Invention of the Aerial Age."  _ The Wright Brothers _ . N.p., n.d. Web. <<https://airandspace.si.edu/exhibitions/wright-brothers/online/index.cfm>>.
> 
> "The Wright Brothers Timeline."  _ The Wright Brothers _ . The Wright Brothers USA, n.d. Web. <<http://thewrightbrothersusa.com/one-of-worlds-greatest-stories/wright-brothers-historical-timeline/>>.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Timeless-Librarian on Tumblr for being my beta-angel!


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